


The Last Something That Meant Anything

by erintaylor



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, High School AU, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Student Stiles, Teacher Derek, Teen Wolf, sterek, stisaac - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintaylor/pseuds/erintaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a Student at Beacon Hills High School. Stiles is also gay. And Stiles really needs to get laid, like, really. So he drives over an hour south, to Sacramento, to a CSU gay bar where he meets Sexy McSexypants, aka Derek, and loses his virginity to him in a stall in the bar’s bathroom. Derek is really amazing, and totally into him, and Stiles can't wait to see him again. But the last place he expected to see him was at the front of his English classroom, writing his name on the chalkboard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Something That Meant Anything

Stiles parked his blue jeep in a small parking lot across the road from California State University. He opened the door, swung his messenger bag over his shoulder and started walking down the street towards the _947 Lounge._ He was over an hour away from Beacon Hills, in Sacramento. There was no way he would run into anyone he knew, or anyone who knew his father. 

Stiles looked around the dimly lit lounge as he pushed through the door, making it chime. The bar was quiet, aside from the faint music playing from the speakers behind the bar. It was only 9 o’clock, so he didn’t expect it to be busy, but there were still a few patrons sitting in big comfy arm chairs around the room. He would have thought the place was a coffee shop if it weren’t for the bottles of alcohol lined up behind the bar and the general dingy atmosphere. He walked up to the bar, sat on one of the stools and put his bag up on the counter. 

“You got some ID, kid?” the bartender asked him. He was a big guy, with piercings all over his face, and tattoos covering his arms and neck. 

Stiles swallowed nervously, and nodded, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out his wallet. He carefully took out his fake ID, angling his wallet towards him, making sure that the bartender wouldn’t be able to see his Beacon Hills High School student ID that he had forgotten to remove before coming here. 

The bartender took his ID and smirked. Fuck. Stiles knew his ID was pretty bad, but he thought it would at least work at a place like this. He couldn’t use it at home because everyone knew he was the Sheriff’s son, and no one was stupid enough to give him alcohol. Here, he was unknown. But he didn’t look 21. Not even close. He could maybe pass as a college student, he thought, if he dressed a bit better than usual. Which he had today, in a sleek black leather jacket, faded dark skinny jeans, and a sky blue v-neck that Scott made him buy because “it totally makes your eyes look gold, dude.” He shifted in his stool uncomfortably, prepared to be kicked out any second, but the bartender just handed his ID back and asked “what’ll it be?” 

Stiles opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. He was so sure he would be kicked out that he didn’t even think of what to order if he wasn’t. The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Beer?” Stiles questioned. 

The bartender smirked again and filled a pint up from the tap. “Four bucks, kid,” he said, sliding the beer across the bar to Stiles. Okay so the bartender knew it was a fake ID, he just didn’t care, Stiles thought. Awesome. 

He pulled out a fiver from his wallet and put it on the bar. “Keep the change,” he grinned, put away his wallet and looked around the bar. His smile faded. None of the guys who were in there interested Stiles. He let out a disappointed sigh. He had read online that the this bar was the place where all gay college kids hung out, and he wanted, no _needed_ to get laid tonight. He supposed it was still early though, so he pulled out the book he was currently reading, _Meditationes de Prima Philosophia,_ found his place, and started reading. 

Stiles took a sip of his beer as the bell on the door chimed, and glanced over his shoulder. In the doorway stood the most beautiful specimen of man that Stiles had ever laid eyes on. He was tall, taller than Stiles anyway, and Stiles could see the outline of his pecks underneath the tight black shirt that perfectly hugged his body. His hair was jet black, and he had a short beard of scruff that covered his clearly defined jawline. It took all of Stiles energy to swallow his beer and turn his head back to his book, but he still watched the man out of the corner of his eye as he walked up to the bar and sat two seats away from him. 

“Can I get a Heineken, please,” the man said to the bartender. His voice was smooth and yet gravelly at the same time, and Stiles mouth went dry. How could one person be so… so… sexy? It wasn’t fair. Stiles took another sip of beer behind his book. 

“Cogito, ergo sum,” the man said, and Stiles nearly spit his beer out. He was talking to him. Sexy McSexypants (as Stiles has decided to call him) was actually talking to him. To Stiles. He gulped his beer down though, and lowered the book slowly. “Is that the original Latin? That’s impressive.” 

Stiles nodded, dumbstruck. “Yeah, I - uh, thought it would be more authentic than some poorly translated English version,” he shrugged. 

“It definitely is better to read the original,” he smiled, and oh god he had the most beautiful smile Stiles had ever seen. So warm, and friendly, and his eyes crinkled ever so slightly… and his _eyes_. My god his eyes were the most amazing shade of green, like the colour of the ocean as it meets the yellow sand of the beach. “Are you majoring in Philosophy?” the man asked. 

Stiles shook his head out of his daze. “I, uhm, actually - ” Stiles almost told him he was in high school, but realized they were in a bar, and that Sexy McSexypants was probably a lot older than him and would probably stop talking to him if he knew, and quickly decided this would be a bad choice. “Undecided,” he said, “but probably English, actually. I like to write,” he added, “but mostly just personal stuff,” and took a big gulp of beer. 

The man’s eyes lit up. “I majored in English,” he smiled. Oh that smile. “And I tried writing,” he said, “but it never really stuck…” he said, and then added “So, I’m teaching now. I start my first job on tuesday.” He got up and moved to the stool next to Stiles. “I’m Derek, by the way,” he said, holding his hand out to Stiles. 

“Stiles,” he replied, grasping his hand and giving a firm handshake. He could feel a sort of electricity between them. “I think I’d like to teach,” he said as calmly as he could, and Derek smiled again. Stiles could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “Oh I love this song,” he said, turning his head toward the speaker where he could hear the faint sound of _The Last Something that Meant Anything_.

“Mayday Parade,” Derek said, looking at the speakers, and slowly nodding his head along to the song. He turned his head back to look at Stiles. “So, _Stiles_ ,” he said, drawling out the name in a way that made Stiles want to hear him say it over and over and over again, “you can read Latin, you’re a writer, you have a good taste in music, and you’re incredibly cute,” he said as his cheeks turned slightly pink. Stiles could feel his own cheeks warm with blush. “I’d like to get to know you a little bit more.” 

Stiles raised an eyebrow suggestively, “I’d like to get to know more of you, too.” 

Derek downed the rest of his beer, nodded his head towards the bathroom, and then got up and headed in that direction. Stiles followed suit. Chugging the remainder of his own pint, he put his book in his bag, lifted the strap over his shoulder, took a deep breath, counted to 30, and followed Derek into the washroom. 

But when he entered the washroom, Stiles couldn’t see him. “Derek?” he called out quietly, and a hand grabbed his arm from the side and pulled him into the corner stall. He faced Derek, who took the bag off of Stiles’ shoulder, and hung it on the hook. He put his hands on Stiles’ waist, and pulled him in towards him. This was happening, he thought. Okay, this was actually happening. Up until now Stiles had been able to keep his cool, but he had never done this before. He was nervous, and Stiles has a habit of talking too much when he’s nervous. “So I should probably tell you that I’ve never done this before so, um, yeah, uh, just so you know, I -” he rambled, but was silenced as Derek kissed him and pushed him up against the wall. Stiles shrugged off his leather jacket and then wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and grabbed his hair, leaning into the kiss. He parted his lips, and licked at Derek’s mouth until his tongue was met by Derek’s own. Derek ran his hands up along Stiles’ body, making him shiver all over and gasp for air. Stiles could feel Derek’s hardon grinding up against his own, and reached one of his hands down to palm at it through his jeans. Derek moaned into Stiles’ mouth as his hands traveled down to grab Stiles’ ass and hoist him up against the wall. “Oh my god,” Stiles breathed in between a kiss, “this is so hot.” 

“We should probably slow down,” Derek breathed against Stiles’ neck, letting him down from the wall and backing away slightly. 

“If you want to,” Stiles frowned. He was so hoping to get laid tonight. But he also really liked Derek, and if slow meant this wouldn’t just be a one-night-stand, then Stiles could be down for taking things slow. 

“Fuck it,” Derek grunted in response, pulled his shirt off over his head, and lunged back towards Stiles and began sucking at his neck. Stiles was so rock hard now, that his tight jeans were getting increasingly more uncomfortable, so he made a move to undo his buttons. Derek caught his hands before he managed to though, and pinned them back against the wall with a low growl from his throat. Stiles could feel his heart pounding against his chest as Derek slowly pulled his shirt over his head, released his arms and unbuttoned and unzipped both of their jeans. He reached into Stiles’ boxer briefs and started stroking him slowly. Stiles moaned and jerked his hips into Derek’s hand. 

“I want to fuck you, _Stiles,_ ” Derek moaned Stiles’ name, and nipped at his ear. 

“Yes, yeah, let’s do that,” Stiles panted and pushed his jeans down all the way to the floor. Derek pulled his own pants down just enough to let his cock free, then put three fingers in his mouth and slicked them up with spit. He reached his hand under Stiles’ balls and started rubbing his hole, slowly pushing one finger in. Stiles let out a whimper of pleasure, and put a hand on Derek’s cock, stroking it slowly.  

“You’re so tight,” Derek whispered into his ear, “relax.” Stiles took a deep breath as he felt a second and then third finger push up inside of him. He had fingered himself before, but had never managed more than two fingers. He had big hands, but Derek’s hands were _big._ He felt so full, and then suddenly the feeling was gone. As Derek withdrew his fingers Stiles let out a cry that sounded like a lost puppy. “Alright, come here,” Derek said, closing the toilet seat and sitting on top of it. He pulled a condom out of his pocket ripped open the wrapper with his teeth and rolled it down in one swift motion. “I’ll be gentle,” Derek smiled, as he saw the look of apprehension on Stiles’ face. “You’re in control here,” he added. 

Stiles nodded and straddled Derek’s lap. Derek put his hands on Stiles’ waist, helping to guide him onto his hardon. Stiles lowered himself slightly, and feeling a sharp pain, he sucked in a deep breath. His eyes began to water, and tears flowed silently down his face, but he pushed down farther anyway, and felt Derek’s cock hit his sweet spot. Derek kissed the tears on his eyes, and then kissed Stiles on the mouth, letting him taste their saltiness. 

“You feel so good,” Derek mumbled into Stiles’ mouth, and then slowly bucked his hips upwards. Stiles let out a gasp, but leaned into Derek’s thrust, and began to ride him, pulling up slightly, and then lowering himself down again. The pain seemed to be replaced with pleasure as Stiles got used to the feeling of Derek inside of him, and he started riding Derek harder and faster. Derek moaned loudly and thrusted his hips upwards into Stiles as Stiles pushed down onto him. 

“I’m going to -” Stiles began, but before he could get the last word out, he felt an explosion of pleasure as his come shot out onto Derek’s perfectly toned chest. Derek bucked his hips once, twice, and then pushed up into Stiles one last time with a loud moan, before sliding himself out and giving Stiles one more lingering kiss. “Wow,” Stiles breathed as they broke apart. 

“Yeah,” Derek panted, nodding in agreement, and reaching over to grab some toilet paper to clean up the mess that Stiles made on his chest. “You are a phenomenal fuck,” he said, wiping away Stiles come. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Stiles grinned, stood up, and then reached down to grab his pants. He could almost still feel Derek inside of him, and it was like he never wanted that feeling to go away. Derek flashed his smile up at him, finished wiping himself off, and threw the tissue and condom into the garbage can next to the toilet. They both got dressed pretty quickly and then exited the bathroom subtly, Stiles first, and then Derek a few minutes later. 

The crowd in the bar had grown exponentially since Stiles and Derek went into the bathroom, but Stiles found a couple of chairs in the corner and sat in one, waiting for Derek, who found him a few minutes later. 

“So what now?” Stiles asked, smiling at Derek, who had just taken a seat in the chair next to him. 

“Well, I’d like to see you again, if that’s what you mean,” Derek responded, “Maybe take you out on a date,” he blushed, “if that’s something that you would be interested in.” 

“That is definitely something that I would be interested in,” Stiles said, “I would also be very interested in doing more of the things we just did,” he whispered, leaning in close so Derek could hear him. 

Derek pulled out his phone and handed it to Stiles. “Phone number,” he demanded, and then held his hand out for Stiles’ phone. Stiles gave him his own phone, and then typed in his own number on Derek’s, triple checking to make sure he put it in right. 

“Shit,” he said, looking at the clock on Derek’s phone that read 10:30. “I gotta get home,” he sighed. His curfew was at midnight tonight, and he had more than an hour to drive home. 

“You sure?” Derek asked. “It’s still pretty early,” he said, glancing at his watch. 

“I’ve got a pretty long drive,” Stiles shrugged as he stood up, exchanged his phone for Derek’s, and put it back in his pocket. “But I’m expecting a text tomorrow,” he smiled. 

“I can do that,” Derek agreed with a nod, “Are you driving?” he added.

“Yeah, do you need a ride anywhere?” Stiles asked. 

“No, but I’ll walk you to your car,” he smiled, standing up and following Stiles to the front door of the bar. 

He parked in a small lot up the street, so the walk to his car didn’t take very long. “This is me,” Stiles said, gesturing to his baby blue Jeep. “I guess I’ll see you soon, then.” 

Derek leaned in and kissed Stiles gently, “Can’t wait,” he smiled. 

Stiles kissed Derek goodbye, hopped in his Jeep, and readied himself for the long drive back to Beacon Hills. 

* * *

 

“Seriously Scott, he’s perfect,” Stiles said to his best friend as they walked into the first class of their senior year. “You should see his eyes though, they’re like the greenest green to ever green, man.” He felt like he was on cloud 9. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a text from Derek.  

_Can’t wait to see you again xx_  

Stiles swooned, and put his phone away as the teacher walked into the classroom. Stiles looked up and tensed immediately. Even though he couldn’t see the man’s face, there was something all too familiar about the way he held himself. The teacher’s front was to the chalkboard and he was writing his name across the board.  

_Mr. Hale_

Stiles froze. This was not happening. This could not be happening. 

“Good morning class,” Derek said as he turned around. “I’m Mr. -” he started and then locked eyes with Stiles. “Holy crap,” he breathed. 


	2. Just Say You're Not Into It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles talks to Derek after class and it doesn't go well.

The bell for second period rang out and Stiles stayed frozen in his seat. He had never been more mortified in his life. The whole period Stiles avoided eye contact with his teacher. God his  _teacher._ How could Derek be his _teacher?_  

“Coming, bro?” Scott asked, standing next to Stiles’ desk and looking at him questioningly.

“Yeah just… just give me a minute. I’ll see you in Chem,” he responded, putting his books in his bags. He looked over at Derek, who was sitting at the teacher’s desk with his head in his hands, staring down at a piece of paper. Stiles waited for everyone to leave the classroom, then got up from his desk, closed the door and locked it. 

“You said you were in college,” Derek said, not looking up from his desk. 

“No, I said I was thinking of majoring in English…” Stiles said. His voiced hitched as Derek looked up at him with angry eyes, and then looked away again. “Which is true! I am thinking of majoring in English…” he sighed, moving closer to Derek. “I just thought… if you knew I was in high school you wouldn’t -” 

“Damn right I wouldn’t,” Derek growled, cutting Stiles off. The growl in his voice only made Stiles think of the noise Derek made when he kissed him just a few days ago. “When I met you, I thought you were this… this amazing guy, so smart, so beautiful…” Derek looked up at Stiles. The anger in his eyes had disappeared, and all Stiles could see was hurt and sadness. 

Stiles moved in closer, leaning with his back against the desk, and put his hand on Derek’s own. Derek flinched, but didn’t move his hand away. “I’m still that guy, okay?” he said, “nothing’s changed.” 

“Yes, yes, it has,” Derek sighed, moving his hand out from under Stiles’, “I’m your teacher now.” 

“I know it’s not just me,” Stiles said, “you feel it too, this feels right for us,” he smiled, trying to plead with Derek. He didn’t want to lose him. 

“It’s not right,” Derek sighed, stood up from his chair and walked to the door, “we just can’t,” he said, unlocking the door, and opening it for Stiles. Stiles’ heart sank down into his stomach. “You should get to class.” 

Stiles could feel tears welling in his eyes. He walked to the door and then paused to look up at Derek, who just shook his head and looked away. He left the classroom, tears stinging at his eyes. He started running. Down the hall, out the front doors, into the parking lot, and to his Jeep, where he slid down on the ground and leaned back against his front tire, letting his tears fall down his cheeks. He sat there shaking, and crying and beating himself up inside his head for feeling so… stupid. His phone buzzed in his pocket. His heart skipped a beat, hoping that it would be Derek. It was Scott. 

 

_Where r u?_

 

Stiles sighed. He was twenty minutes late for Chemistry. Not that he really cared. He didn’t want to go to any more classes today. He didn’t want to go to any more classes ever, actually. If he dropped out of school he could be with Derek, right? He could home school himself! He always learned more on the internet than in a classroom, anyway. He’s taught himself Latin, learned about ancient philosophers, and even taught himself how to play the piano. What did he need school for, anyway? He was going to drop out. He texted Scott back.

 

_Feeling sick. Going home. I’ll pick you up after school._

 

Stiles picked himself off the ground and threw his bags over the side of his Jeep. He unlocked the door, hopped in, and started the car. He looked at the big school in front of him. In one of the windows on the first floor he saw a face looking out at him. He stared back. Derek looked away and closed the blinds. Stiles groaned. So Derek had just seen him crying his eyes out in a heap on the ground. Great. Really sexy, Stiles. 

Stiles spent the rest of the school day driving around town, avoiding the Police Station so he didn’t accidentally run into his dad. All he could think about was Derek. What was Derek thinking right now? How could Derek just end it like that? Derek probably thinks he’s just a child. Derek’s hands, and Derek’s body, and Derek’s lips, and Derek, Derek, Derek, Derek. He parked the Jeep at the front of the school, just before the final bell rang. He watched as students pushed through the front doors, heading for their cars, or the bus stop. He waved as he saw Scott coming towards him. 

“Are you okay?” Scott asked, climbing into the Jeep, and throwing his his backpack on the floor.  Stiles just frowned. “What’s going on? You seemed totally messed up during English.” 

Stiles started the car, and started driving down the street. “Yeah, so remember how just before class I was telling you about the guy I met this weekend?” 

Scott nodded. “Yeah, yeah, Sexy McSexypants, green eyes, you’re no longer a virgin, and he has been texting you non stop for the past two days. Did I remember everything?” he laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Stiles said quickly, “and remember how when, uh - Mr. Hale introduced himself as Mr. _holy crap,”_ Stiles said as he mimicked exactly how Derek had sounded, all breathless and in shock. Scott nodded, raising his eyebrow questioningly. “And how he was staring _at_ me when he said it?” 

Scott’s jaw dropped. “No… no way!” 

“Yes way,” Stiles deadpanned, stopping at a red light and turning towards Scott. “Derek Hale,” Stiles sighed, “a.k.a. Sexy McSexypants.” The light turned green, and Stiles turned back towards the road again. “And so I talked to him after class.” 

“And?” Scott questioned, “what are you going to do? Just ignore it? Pretend it never happened?” 

“That’s what he wants,” Stiles frowned, and made a right turn onto Scott’s street. “But I don’t know if I can do that,” he sighed, stopping the car in front of Scott’s house, and turning it off. “I can’t sit through his class every day, or see him in the halls, and just _pretend_ ,” he groaned, “imagine if you had to see Allison every day but you couldn’t hold her or touch her or be with her?” 

Scott crinkled his brow. “That would be hell,” he said, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, and patting his back. “But I mean, you’ve only known him for what? Not even three days? Can’t you try to like, move past it?” 

Stiles stared at him incredulously. “Scott,” he said, staring his best friend right in the face, “his cock has been inside my ass, that is not something that’s easy to move past.” 

“Fair point,” Scott said, looking a little bit disturbed, and trying to shake the image out of his head. “What are you going to do then?” 

Stiles shrugged, and put his forehead against the steering wheel. “I was thinking of dropping out,” he mumbled. 

“Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen,” Scott grabbed his bag off of the floor of the car. “What about just switching into a different English class? That way you won’t have to see him as much?” 

Stiles lifted his head up to look at Scott. “How do I do that?” 

“There’s a form in the office,” he replied. “You just gotta Mr. Hale to sign it, and the office to approve.” 

Stiles groaned. 

“I’m sure Ms. Blake would be fine with it,” Scott smiled at his friend, “you had her last year, and she liked you, right?” 

“Everyone likes me, Scott,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “that’s kind of how I got myself into this mess,” he chuckled at his own joke. 

“Ha ha,” Scott mock laughed at his friend and then opened the door of the Jeep and stepped out. “Seriously though, Stiles. Pick me up early tomorrow and we’ll go to the office before class, okay?” 

Stiles groaned and turned his keys in the ignition. “Yeah, yeah, alright.” 

 

Scott shut the door, and waved Stiles off as he drove away. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey, dad?” Stiles questioned, sitting down next to his father at the dinner table that night. “What do you think about home schooling?” 

Sheriff Stilinski looked up at his son with raised eyebrows. “What the hell are you talking about, kid? You love school.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles said, shrugging, “but I just thought that maybe -” 

“No,” he responded, “it’s not an option.” 

“I figured,” Stiles sulked. It couldn’t hurt to ask, anyway. Although now his dad probably thinks something is wrong, and so asking probably was actually a horrible idea. 

“Did something happen at school today, Stiles?” His father looked at him with concern, “did you get in a fight with Scott?” 

“No, no,” he sighed, “everything’s fine,” he lied, and stood up from the table. “I’m just going to go to sleep. I’m tired.” 

“Alright...” the Sheriff said, looking at him, clearly not buying his lie. He was never a good liar. Especially not to his father. 

Stiles walked upstairs to his room and shut the door behind him. He lay down on his bed and looked up at the ceiling. Tomorrow he would request to transfer out of Derek’s class, and would try to get over him. He had to try to get over him. Of course all he really wanted to do was get under him. Under his clothes, into his mind. Into his bed. He tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. He just lay there for hours, thinking about Derek. He looked at his phone. Midnight. He groaned. He just wanted to hear Derek’s voice. He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Danny, Deacon, Derek. He almost pressed call. Almost. But before he could his phone started vibrating and Derek’s name flashed. 

“Derek?” he asked hesitantly. 

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek breathed. “Come outside.” Stiles got up and looked out his window. There was black Camero parked in front of his house. “Stiles?” 

“Give me a minute,” Stiles replied. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Why was Derek here? He made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing to do with Stiles. He opened his bedroom door and walked down the hall, pausing in front of his dad’s door to make sure he was asleep. He slowly crept down the stairs and went outside, not bothering to put any shoes on. He walked across the cold front lawn, opened the passenger door of the Camero and sat down. He closed the door gently. A faint smell of alcohol met his nose. Derek had been drinking. “What do you want?” He asked, looking out the window at his house, avoiding Derek’s gaze. 

“I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles said, shrugging Derek’s hand off of him. “Is that all?” 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, looking away from Stiles. “I was a jerk. I am a jerk. But I can’t deal with you hating me… I don’t know what I feel worse about: staying away from you, or being such a jerk about it.” Stiles’ could feel his heart rate increasing. Derek feels bad about having to stay away from him. Derek still likes him. 

“You were a jerk,” Stiles said, putting his hand over Derek’s. “But I don’t hate you, and I would never want to do anything that could get you in trouble.” He sighed as Derek looked up at him with a sad smile on his face. “Now drive home safely,” he whispered, leaned in towards Derek, and kissed him softly on the cheek. He opened the door to leave but Derek grabbed his hand, pulled him back in, and lunged forward to kiss his lips. Stiles’ mouth met Derek’s with apprehension. But he could feel Derek’s tongue licking his upper lip, begging for entrance into his mouth, and kissed him back with just as much force. He brought his hands up to Derek’s head and ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair. Derek’s hands moved to Stiles’ waist, and were slowly getting lower and lower. Stiles could feel himself getting hard under his PJs, and Derek’s hand was getting very close. He knew if he didn’t stop himself now that he wouldn’t be able to, and he needed to, or he would never be able to get over Derek. He pulled away from Derek, and opened the car door again. “Goodbye, Derek,” he said, stepping out of the car and shutting the door behind him. He quickly walked across the lawn and back inside his house, without looking back. 

He got back into his room and flopped on his bed. Ugh, stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought. How could he be so stupid? He had kissed Derek again and now he had a raging boner all he wanted to do was to keep kissing Derek and to keep touching him. He reached his hand down his pants and slowly started to stroke himself. He was already wet with precome. He pictured Derek’s hands on him, and tried to remember the feeling of Derek’s cock inside of him. He bucked his hips up into his hand, and let out a quiet moan. 

 

* * *

 

Stiles followed Scott into the office and walked up to the front desk. “Lydia, hey,” Scott grinned at his girlfriend’s best friend. She was a gorgeous red head, completely brilliant, and the senior class president. “You know where the class transfer forms are?” She was busy, looking at something and didn’t look up at Scott. She pointed to paper rack against the wall that was filled with various different forms. Stiles walked over to the rack and skimmed over the titles of the forms. _Add course, Drop course, Guidance appointment, Transcript Request, Transfer course._ There it was. He pulled out a form, grabbed a pen from the desk and started filling in all necessary information. Class wasn’t supposed to start for another half hour, so maybe if he could get Derek to sign it and bring the form back to the office in time, he could start Ms. Blake’s class today! 

He finished filling out the form (under reasons for transfer request he listed: personal) and turned back to Scott, who was now in a close embrace with Allison Argent, his long time girlfriend. “I’ll just - I’ll see you later, alright?” He said, trying to get Scott’s attention. 

“I can come with you?” he offered, but Stiles could tell from the way his thumb was stroking Allison’s hand that he would rather just stay here. Besides, this was something Stiles needed to do alone. 

“Nah, I’ve got this,” he said confidently, and left the office, form in hand. He turned down the hall, and headed for Derek’s classroom. But before he got there, he found Derek walking out of the staff room, down the hall, just in front of his classroom. “Mr. Hale,” Stiles said, immediately feeling awkward for doing so, but there were other students in the hall by their lockers, and he couldn’t very well call him by his first name. Derek stopped in front of Stiles and looked up at him. “Can I talk to you?” he asked. 

“Of course,” Derek answered, his eyes crinkling in a smile. 

“I’d like to transfer out of your class,” Stiles said, holding out the form to Derek with one hand, and rubbing the back of his own neck with the other. 

Derek frowned. “Can you come inside for a minute, please?” He asked, nodding his head towards his empty classroom. Stiles nodded apprehensively, and walked into the classroom. Derek looked around outside before shutting the door and turning towards Stiles. “I get where you’re coming from, but I just wish that you could stay in the class,” Derek said, taking a step towards Stiles. 

“This wasn’t an easy decision, but it’s the right thing to do,” Stiles sighed. 

“I can keep my feelings in check,” Derek said, taking another step towards Stiles. 

“I can’t.” Stiles answered, taking a step back. He looked up into Derek’s eyes. “I can’t sit here in class, call you Mr. Hale like everyone else and just pretended that I don’t feel the way that I do. I can’t pretend that I don’t know you, that I don’t know the way your lips feel against mine, that I don’t know what you look like when you _come,_ ” Stiles whispered the last word with a sigh and held out the form towards Derek. “Just sign it, okay?”  

“Stiles,” Derek spoke in a low gravelly voice. Stiles took a sharp breath in as Derek reached out to take the paper, grazing his hand and lingering just a little bit too long, “are you sure?” he asked. 

Stiles exhaled and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Derek pulled a pen out from his shirt pocket and signed the form quickly, handing it back to Stiles. “Thank you,” he smiled halfheartedly, took the paper back from Derek, and quickly exited the classroom. 

He only had fifteen minutes until first period started, so he walked straight to the office and up to the secretary’s desk. “Hi there…” he said, and glancing down at the name block on the desk added, “Ms. Milton.” He grinned a cheeky grin, trying to be as charming as possible. “I have a transfer request for my first period class, which starts in like ten minutes so if it’s possible to do this now so I can just go to the new class instead, that would be really really awesome,” he smiled. 

The secretary looked up at him with raised eyebrows, clearly not impressed with his charm. She held out her hand for the form and Stiles handed it to her quickly. She looked down at it and then turned to her computer to type in the information. She kept glancing back and forth from the paper to the computer, making Stiles feel extremely anxious. Then finally she took a stamp from her drawer pushed it in the ink, and then stamped it in the little box that said _for office use only._ She handed the form back to Stiles, and in the box at the bottom of the page he read ‘ _Denied.’_  

“What?!” He choked, stammering “w-why?” 

“Ms. Blake’s class is full,” she frowned, “sorry, Mr. Stilinski. You’re just going to have to stay in Mr. Hale’s class.” The first period bell rang as Stiles let out a sigh of exasperation. He turned around, left the office and walked right back to Derek’s classroom, where most of his classmates had already taken their seats and were pulling their books out of their bags. He quickly placed the form on Derek’s desk and then walked to his own seat. He looked over at Scott and shook his head. Scott frowned. He looked up at Derek, who was staring at him. 

 

_I’m sorry,_ Derek mouthed. 


	3. I Swear This Time I Mean It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets caught it the rain, leading to a very interesting ride home from Derek. A new boy joins Mr. Hale's English class.

“Fuck,” Stiles cursed, sitting in his Jeep in the school parking lot on a Friday afternoon, slamming his hands against the rim of the steering wheel. “Why won’t you start!?” He tried turning his keys in the ignition again, and the car made an unhappy squeal. “Goddamnit.” He pulled his keys out, grabbed his back pack, and opened the door, slamming it just as a roar of thunder sounded in the sky. “Fuck my life,” he groaned. He had stayed late to work on a Chemistry lab report, so none of his friends were still there to give him a ride home. He wouldn’t mind walking usually, because he really only lived a couple of miles away, but the sky was getting dark, and it was about to storm. He picked up his phone and called the Beacon Hills auto shop. He got no answer. It was past seven o’clock on a Friday, and business hours were over. He would have to call for a tow in the morning. He felt a drop of rain fall on his face, and put the hood from his sweatshirt up. He swung his bag over his shoulder and started walking out of the parking lot, when he saw Derek’s car still parked there. He considered going into the school to find him, but decided against it, and kept walking. He had gotten about half a mile away from the school when the rain started to pour down on him. There was nothing he could really do but keep walking. A car horn blasted behind him, and he waved his arm, motioning for them to go around him. There were no sidewalks on the street he was on, so he was just walking along the side of the road. The horn blasted again “I said go around me!” he yelled, stopping in the road and turning around. The black Camero pulled up next to him and rolled down the window. 

“Get in!” Derek shouted over the sound of the rain, which was coming down in buckets. 

 “I’m fine,” Stiles said, and kept walking. 

Derek drove alongside Stiles slowly. “Come on, Stiles, it’s pouring, just let me take you home,” he pleaded. Stiles stopped, looked up at the sky and sighed. He opened the door and climbed in quickly, putting his bag on the floor, and pressing the button to roll the window back up.  

“Where’s your car?” Derek asked, as Stiles’ reached around to put on his seatbelt. 

“At school. It wouldn’t start,” he answered, and Derek nodded in response. He really was not in the mood to be talking to Derek. And he really did not want to be in this car, where only three weeks earlier they had made out in front of his house, after Derek had basically told him that they couldn’t be together. 

“I just finished marking your paper,” he said, referring to the short essay that Derek had made his class write on the importance of studying the English language and English literature. Stiles didn’t say anything. “I was very impressed.” Stiles smiled to himself. He had spent a lot of time writing that paper, solely because he wanted to impress Derek. Mission accomplished. “You got an A+,” he added. 

“Hope it’s not just cause I let the teacher fuck me,” Stiles joked, regretting having said it the second it left his mouth. Derek looked liked Stiles had just slapped him. “Sorry,” Stiles said, frowning. They got to Stiles’ house and Derek stopped, and turned the car off. “Thanks,” Stiles said, unbuckling his seatbelt. 

“Stiles, wait,” Derek said, as Stiles was reaching for the door handle to let himself out. 

Stiles turned to face Derek who had unbuckled his own seatbelt and had turned his whole body to face Stiles. He reached towards Stiles, and put a hand on his cheek, wiping away a drop of water that had fallen from his wet hair with his thumb. Stiles looked down at the ground. Derek’s thumb moved towards the boy’s bottom lip, gently stroking it, and Stiles looked up into his eyes. He leaned in slightly, and Derek leaned in the rest of the way, crashing his lips onto Stiles, desperately. He put his hands around Stiles’ waist and hoisted him over the arm rest, on top of him. Stiles reached down and pulled up the lever on the side of the chair that made the seat recline, pushing Derek down and grinding on top of him, without breaking their kiss. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Derek murmured into Stiles’ mouth as the kiss slowed down. Stiles pulled back to look into Derek’s eyes. “Every time I see you in class or in the hallway I have to fight the urge to just grab you and kiss you,” he trembled underneath Stiles, who could feel Derek’s hardon through his jeans. 

“Then stop fighting it,” Stiles whispered, and Derek pulled him back down, claiming his lips once again. Stiles moaned as he pushed his hips forward into Derek, ripping his shirt open and running his hands across his muscular chest. He bent his head down to suck on his nipple, making Derek moan with pleasure. Derek’s hands fumbled between them at the waistband of Stiles jeans, popping the button and unzipping his fly, then slipping his hand under Stiles’ boxers, and stroking his cock, getting his fingers slicked up with precome. He slipped his hand under Stiles’ balls, and gently stroked at his hole. He pushed in one finger, then a second. Stiles bucked into Derek’s hand, and moved his own hand down and under Derek’s jeans, pushing them down, and pulling out his swollen cock. Stiles slid his own body down, Derek's finger's sliding out of him, until his knees were on the floor of the car, and his face was in between Derek’s thighs. Derek put his hands on Stiles’ head as he licked the precome that was dripping at the tip of Derek’s cock. Stiles ran his tongue down Derek’s shaft getting him slick with saliva, then took him full in his mouth, deep throating him, making Derek moan incredibly loudly. 

“ _Stiles,_ oh fuck, that feels so good,” he moaned, as Stiles head bobbed up and down between his legs. Stiles reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, now kissing Derek’s cock, and fumbled around for the condom he kept in there. Finding it, he threw his wallet somewhere on the passenger side of the car, ripped the condom open, and rolled it down onto Derek’s throbbing cock. He slithered back up on top of Derek, who helped him pull his jeans and boxers off (a difficult task to accomplish in the position they were in) and throw them onto the passengers seat. Stiles straddled Derek, and pushed down onto him, feeling the familiar burst of pain followed by intense pleasure. “Oh fuck, oh _fuuuuck_ ,” Derek moaned into the crook of Stiles’ neck, and thrusted his hips up into him. He nipped at Stiles’ neck, biting and sucking as Stiles rode him. Stiles moved in just the right way, so that Derek’s cock hit his prostate every time he pushed down onto it, each time getting him closer and closer to climax. Derek put one hand on Stiles cock and stroked it as he rocked on top of him. 

“ _Derek,_ ” Stiles moaned out as he shot his load out onto Derek’s chest, at the same time Derek breathed, “ _I fucking love you, Stiles,”_ coming at the same time with a few last thrusts into him. 

“What?” Stiles said, as Derek slipped out of him, looking at him wide-eyed. He just said he loved him. Derek loved him. Derek looked back at him, completely flustered and frantic at what he had just said. 

“I, um - well,” Derek stammered, sitting up. Stiles crawled back over the arm rest into the passenger seat and scrambled to put his boxers back on. 

“Right, heat of the moment, I get it,” Stiles said with a tone of annoyance in his voice. 

“I’m your teacher, Stiles,” Derek said, pulling the condom off, and tucking himself back into his jeans, “I… I _can’t_ love you,” he sighed, looking over at Stiles who was now angrily pulling his pants on. 

“Right,” he muttered, “you can just fuck me.” He did up his button and leaned back in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“That’s not what I meant, Stiles,” Derek said, sounding completely dejected. 

“We can’t do this again, Derek,” Stiles spoke calmly, turning to his teacher. “We can’t keep doing this and then you tell me that we can’t be together because it’s driving me fucking crazy,” he said, “it’s like riding a fucking emotional roller coaster, and you know what?” he barked, “I fucking hate roller coasters!” He could feel the lump rising in his throat, and tears forming in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, not able to look at Stiles. 

“And I’m _done_ ,” he snapped, grabbing his bag, then opening the door, climbing out of the car, and slamming the door shut. He ran through the rain into his house, slammed the door shut behind him, slunk down on the floor, and cried. Why was Derek torturing him? Why would he fuck him again, and then say that? How the fuck was Stiles supposed to get over him now? Thankfully his father wasn’t home yet to see his sopping wet mess of a son. 

* * *

Stiles stayed in bed the whole weekend, not answering any one of Derek’s 34 calls, reading any of his 79 text messages, or listening to any of his 7 voice messages. When Monday came around, Stiles didn’t want to get out of bed. His dad had gotten the Jeep towed and fixed over the weekend (it needed a new battery), because Stiles had said he had gotten a cold from walking home in the rain. But he had to hand in his Chemistry lab, and Scott was counting on him for a ride to school. He rolled out of bed, and took a quick, much needed shower, then threw on a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and grabbed his bag. He went to grab his wallet out of the pocket of the jeans he had worn on Friday, but he didn’t find it. He looked around, on his desk, under his bed, but couldn’t find it anywhere. He flipped open his phone and tapped on the string of messages from Derek. 

_You forgot your wallet_

 “Fuck,” Stiles groaned, and continued scrolling through the messages as he headed downstairs and out to his car. 

_I’m still outside_

_Stiles_

_I’m sorry_

_Can I come drop off your wallet today?_

_Stiles I need to see you_

_Please Stiles_

_For gods sake stiles stop ignoring me_

_What should I do with your wallet?_

_I was an idiot, Stiles, I’m sorry please talk to me_

_Can you pick up your damn phone?_

_Stiles come on_

_Pick up your phone_

_Just listen to the voicemail_

Stiles rolled his eyes and deleted them all, without reading the rest. He called his voicemail as he got into his Jeep. _You have seven new voice messages,_ the automated lady said, _to play all new messages, press one. To listen to saved messages, press two, to delete all messages, press three._ Without a second thought, Stiles hit 3, and hung up his phone. He put it in his pocket and started the Jeep.  

He pulled up in front of Scott’s house a few minutes later and honked the horn twice, as per their usual signal. Scott opened the door, yelling, “Bye mom!” and running out to Stiles. “Dude, I wasn’t sure you were even coming today,” Scott said, opening the door and climbing into the jeep. “You were AWOL all weekend, what’s going on?” he asked. 

“Don’t want to talk about it,” Stiles mumbled, waiting for Scott to put his seatbelt on before merging back into the street. 

“Did you meet another guy?” Scott pushed, grinning. Stiles wanted to smack the smile right off of his face. 

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, so just drop it,” Stiles barked at him, then felt ashamed as he saw the look of hurt on Scott’s face. “Sorry,” he mumbled, then after a few minutes of awkward silence he asked, “So, how was your weekend?” trying to sound genuinely interested. 

“Allison and I went out with Lydia and Jackson on Saturday,” he grinned, “we went to dinner, then glow in the dark bowling.” 

“Man, I love glow in the dark bowling!” Stiles whined, now even more upset that he missed it. 

“I tried to invite you, but you didn’t answer your phone,” Scott said with a shrug. 

“I’d have been a fifth wheel, anyway,” Stiles said, _and I hate Jackson,_ he thought to himself. Scott just shrugged again, and started fiddling with the radio station. Not able to find anything good, he switched it to AUX mode, where Stiles’ iPod was plugged in, and put it on shuffle. The song that started playing made Stiles’ heart drop.

_Well I thought that we could sit around and talk for hours,_

_About things I couldn’t say to you,_

_And things that we could never do and,_

_This conversation has had no face_

_When the words take days you can re-write and erase anything_

_You know my heart (so tell me honestly, did you ever really want this?)_

_Knows all these -_

 

Stiles turned it off. 

“I thought you loved this song?” Scott asked, as they pulled into the parking lot of the school. 

“I did,” Stiles replied, giving no other explanation. Now every time Stiles heard this song he thought about Derek, and it broke his heart. He parked the Jeep, and they made their way into the school. The front hall was lined with posters that read _Homecoming Dance: Friday September 27th!_

“You should really come with us!” Scott said to Stiles as they walked under a banner that said _Homecoming, THIS FRIDAY!_ “It’ll be fun, dude. We’ve got a limo, and we’re all going together, as a group.” 

Stiles stopped in front of his locker, pulled it open, and turned to face Scott. “No,” he replied, “You’re going with Allison, Erica is going with Boyd, Lydia is going with Jackson, who I hate, by the way, and Danny is going with Ethan. So I would be like, a ninth wheel.” He threw his messenger bag in the locker and pulled out his copy of _Romeo and Juliet,_ the play they had started studying in English class. “And I hate being a wheel.” 

“But we’re all going in the same limo?” Scott tried, but Stiles just shook his head. “You need to get out man, you’ve been moping for weeks. It’s depressing.” 

Stiles slammed his locker shut as the first period bell rang out. “I said no Scott, just leave it,” he snapped, and marched away down the hall angrily. Scott skipped to keep up with him. 

“Come on it will be good for you!” Scott begged as they rounded the corner of the English hall, coming to a stop in front of their classroom. 

Stiles turned sharply to face Scott. “If you can find me a date who looks like Adonis and converses like Socrates, then, and only then will I consider it.” Stiles ranted, “But seeing as how the only person in Beacon Hills who meets that description is about to teach our English class, I don’t see that happening.” Stiles pushed open the door, walked up to Derek’s desk and held his hand out. Scott went to sit at his desk. Derek stood up and walked around to the front of his desk, taking Stiles’ wallet out of his pocket, and handing it to him discreetly. Stiles took it, spun on his heel and stalked to his desk, sitting down in a huff. None of the students noticed anything, as they were all just sitting down, getting their books out, and talking to the people sitting beside them. 

“Alright, if everyone could please open Romeo and Juliet, we’re going to continue where we left off discussion last week, at the beginning of the second Act.” Derek spoke at the front of the classroom. He was standing in front of his desk, leaning back against it with his arms crossed over his chest, book in one hand, making his muscles bulge underneath his shirt that was just a little too tight. “Can someone remind us where we’ve left off?” A hand in the front row shot up. Derek nodded at the perky brunette girl, Laura, (who clearly had a crush on Derek). 

“So, Romeo just saw Juliet and instantly fell in love with her. Then he convinced her to let him kiss her, and then she fell in love with him. And then Romeo finds out that Juliet is a Capulet, and Juliet finds out that Romeo is a Montague they are both totally devastated because their love is forbidden,” she beamed up at Derek, whose eyes had locked with Stiles’ as the girl was speaking. Stiles felt a pang in his chest, and looked down at his book. 

“Good, good,” Derek said, eyes shifting back to the girl. “So now we’re at the second act, with the famous balcony-” he started to say, when the door opened and someone walked in. The guy was frankly beautiful. Stiles thought. He was tall and lean, with ivory skin and the most stunning baby blue eyes that Stiles had ever seen. He had perfectly quaffed curls on his head, high cheek bones, and a jaw line that could cut through glass. 

“Is this Mr. Hale’s English class?” He asked Derek confidently, with a smooth voice that had the vaguest hint of a British accent. When Derek nodded, the boy continued, “I’m Isaac Lahey, I just transferred here,” he said, holding out a paper to Derek. 

“Welcome to Beacon Hills Isaac,” Derek smiled taking the paper, and Stiles couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. “Just take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the classroom in front of him, “we’re reading Romeo and Juliet, so just share the book with your neighbor.” 

Isaac looked around the room. There were only two empty desks. One in the back corner, next to their friend Erica, a gorgeous blonde girl with a rack like no other, and one next to Stiles. His eyes landed on Stiles and he smiled, walking towards him, and sitting down in the desk next to him. “Hi,” he whispered, and then scooted his desk a little closer to Stiles’ so he could look over at his book.

“Hey,” Stiles whispered back, “Stiles,” he added, holding out his hand for Isaac to shake. The boy took his hand and held it for just a little too long, smiling at him sweetly. 

Derek coughed. Stiles let go of Isaac’s hand and looked up at Derek, who was staring daggers at him. Stiles looked down at his book with a grin. Derek was jealous. Super jealous. “Alright where were we?” Derek continued, his voice sounding darker than usual. 

“You were about to talk about the balcony,” Laura offered enthusiastically. 

“Right, so Juliet is standing on her balcony, and she’s calling out ‘O _Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?’_ ” Derek said, reciting the line dramatically, resulting in a chorus of chuckles from the class. “Now, a lot of people actually think she’s calling out, asking ‘ _where_ are you Romeo?’ but this is actually not correct. Does anyone know what she’s actually asking?” Isaac raised his hand next to Stiles, brushing his arm slightly on the way up. “Isaac, was it?” Derek asked. 

Isaac nodded, and answered, “she’s actually asking _why_ are you Romeo,” he stated confidently, “she means _why_ must he be Romeo, a Montague, an enemy of her family. And she says ‘ _Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I’ll no longer be a Capulet,’”_ he recited, without even looking at the book. Stiles looked at him dumbfounded, as Isaac continued, “Which is telling him, just stop being a Montague, change your name, or if you won’t, just tell me you love me and I’m yours.” 

“Exactly,” Derek said with a tone of bitterness in his voice, as a loud wailing noise sounded through the room. The fire alarm. “Alright everyone get up slowly, leave your stuff, it’s just a drill,” Derek said loudly over the alarm, putting his book down and opening the classroom door. “Single file, down the hall, and out the side doors, follow me,” Derek yelled as everyone shuffled to their feet and headed to the door. 

“I think we found your brilliant Adonis,” Scott said quietly into Stiles’ ear as they left the classroom. Stiles glanced quickly at Isaac, who didn’t seem to hear, and then glared at Scott. “Hey Isaac,” Scott said, as they exited the school’s side doors and made their way into the football field. Stiles glared at him harder, which only made Scott laugh. “I’m Scott,” he said holding out his hand to shake. 

Isaac took his hand, and shook it, looking between Scott and Stiles curiously, “are you guys…?” 

“Bestest buds,” Scott grinned, and Isaac nodded and seemed to perk up a little bit, which Stiles definitely noticed.“I’m straight, but if I liked dudes I would totally bang him. He’s totally bangable,” Scott rambled. 

Stiles looked at Scott incredulously. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked through gritted teeth, dragging Scott by the arm away from Isaac, leaving him standing on his own amongst the rest of the class. “What, in the name of all that is holy, do you think you are doing?” 

“Trying to get you a date for homecoming?” Scott inquired, with a slight giggle. 

“You don’t even know if he’s into dudes, you can’t just say shit like that, Scott, he’s going to think we’re insane,” Stiles fumed, looking over Scott’s shoulder to see Isaac staring at them. 

“Stiles, he had the option to sit next to you or to Erica “the rack” Reyes, and he chose you. No straight guy pass on _that,_ ” he said, nodding his head in her direction. Stiles looked away quickly, and then groaned, and walked back over to Isaac, Scott following behind him with a cheesy grin still plastered on his face. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Isaac remarked as they joined him again, and Stiles could feel his stomach flip anxiously, “and I appreciate her breasts as much as the next guy,” he said, and Stiles’ heart sank into his stomach, “but I am definitely _into dudes,”_ he smirked, "and I'd love to go to homecoming with you." 


	4. Champagne's For Celebrating (I'll Have a Martini)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's an asshole again, Stiles makes a Mean Girls reference, and everyone is rolling at Lydia's pre-homecoming party.

By the time the fire drill had ended there were only five minutes left of first period. The students filed back into the school, and Stiles sat down at his desk just as the bell for second period rang out. He packed his bag up quickly and looked up to find Scott had left already, and Isaac was standing next to him, looking at him expectantly. 

“What do you have now?” Stiles asked as he stood up, and Isaac held out his schedule to him. Their hands brushed ever so slightly as Stiles took the schedule to look. “Ah, AP Biology,” he said, looking impressed, “oh, and then we have French together!” 

“Can you walk me to Bio? I have no idea where any of the classrooms are,” Isaac asked meekly, a slight pinkness flushing over his cheeks. 

“Yeah sure. It’s right next to my Chem class,” he said, handing the schedule back to Isaac as they walked towards the door, “then we can meet after and walk to French,” he smiled up at Isaac, and then glanced over his shoulder to see Derek, glaring. 

“Stiles, can I have a word?” Derek asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“No can do, _teach,”_ he grinned, purposely trying to piss off Derek, “I gotta walk my homecoming date to class!” Isaac blushed, and put his arm around Stiles. 

Derek raised his eyebrows, a look on his face Stiles could only interpret as ‘ _are you fucking serious right now,’_ and walked towards them, snatching the schedule from Isaac’s hand, glancing down at it, and shoving it back at him with force, practically pushing him out the door. “Down the hall, turn left, second door on your right,” he growled, shutting the door in Isaac’s face, leaving himself standing dangerously close to Stiles. 

“What the hell, Derek?! Stiles hissed, pushing him away, “what the _fuck_ is your problem!?” 

“Stiles,” Derek sighed, sounding completely dejected. “Just talk to me,” he begged, moving closer to the boy, and putting a hand on his arm. 

“What do you want me to say, Derek?” Stiles sighed, covering Derek’s hand with his own, gently squeezing it. “That you’re being a complete asshole? That I spent all weekend being fucking miserable? That the only reason I got out of bed this morning was to hand in my Chemistry lab? Which is due like, right now, by the way.” 

Derek held Stiles’ hand and took another step towards him. “I am an asshole. I’m a huge asshole, and I’m sorry… but are you seriously going to go out with _that kid?_ ” he spat the last words like they were poison on his tongue. 

“ _Seriously?”_ Stiles questioned, “you’re _jealous?”_ He looked incredulously at Derek, who was now frowning in embarrassment. “You have no right to be jealous. _We,”_ he said, pointing from himself to Derek, “are _not_ together. You made that loud and clear,” he sighed, brushing Derek’s hand off of him, and taking a step towards the door. “So you need to stop all _this,”_ he said, gesturing between them, “you need to get over me, or I will _never_ be able to get over you.”

“Thought you were already,” Derek muttered. 

“Well, if you keep acting like a _dick,_ I might actually start wanting a _different one,_ ” he said, the contempt in his voice coming across loud and clear, “a younger one, that might make me happy, that’s not going to be a crazy, jealous, asshole when he has no right to be.” 

Derek looked like he had just been slapped in the face, repeatedly. “Fuck you, Stiles,” he growled, “fuck you.” 

“You already did,” Stiles replied, opening the door and walking out, then turning back around and staring Derek right in the face. “Twice,” he said, punctuating his last word by slamming the door shut behind him. He held back the tears this time. He was not going to let Derek make him cry again. 

* * *

 

When the bell rang after second period, Stiles packed his bag up quickly so he could meet Isaac and walk to French with him. Isaac was, much to Stiles’ surprise, already waiting outside his classroom door. 

“Hey,” he smiled weakly, and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Listen I’m sorry about earlier,” he said as they started walking towards the language hall. 

“It’s not your fault,” Isaac shrugged, “Is Mr. Hale always that aggressive though? What did he want to talk to you about anyway?” 

“He’s usually not so bad,” Stiles replied uneasily, not sure if he was being entirely honest, and not sure what to even say in response to Isaac’s other question. “And uh, he just wanted to talk to me about my essay,” he added, attempting to not sound like he was lying out of his ass. 

“Oh, okay,” Isaac said, content with the answer Stiles had provided. “He is pretty hot though, isn’t he?” he grinned as they rounded the corner into the language hall. 

“Yeah, I guess, I mean If you’re into the whole muscly, chiseled, greek god, kinda thing,” Stiles joked sarcastically, pausing in front of their classroom and opening the door. 

* * *

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping!” Stiles shouted at Scott as he walked towards the Jeep in the parking lot at the end of the day. 

“We are?” Scott asked, hopping in and buckling up his seat belt, “need a tux for homecoming?” 

“No,” Stiles grinned, “we’re going to do what we always do before a big party,” he said, starting the Jeep and backing out of the parking space. 

“Ooooooh,” Scott smiled, “anything good come in recently?” 

Stiles nodded. “I was listening to the scanner last night,” he said. Stiles had commandeered one of his dad’s old police scanners. When Stiles was a baby, his mom used to always listen to the police scanner when his dad was out on duty. She was always scared that something would happen to him, so the scanner allowed her to listen, to know where he was. The sound of the scanner had become a sort of comfort for Stiles. He had fallen asleep to it so often as a child that now it helped him sleep when he was having trouble. He also liked to use it to hear about any new arrivals to the evidence locker that may be of interest to him. “They got like a shit ton of weed and recreational drugs,” he grinned. 

“Sweet,” Scott said, leaning back in his seat, and putting his feet up on the dash board. “So are you and Isaac going to get all cute and couple-y now?” he asked, grinning over at Stiles after a few minutes. 

“No.” Stiles said plainly, and just turned the radio on, which Scott understood to mean _conversation over._ He didn’t want to be cute and couple-y with Isaac. Sure, Isaac was great looking, and smart, but he wasn’t Derek. And Derek still wanted him, which means Stiles wasn’t going to be able to get over him, which means Stiles wasn’t going to give up on him, either. 

The Police Station was only a couple minutes away from Beacon Hills High School. When they got there and parked the car, Scott took the books out of his backpack before walking into the police station behind Stiles, with the empty bag on his back. They walked straight past the front desk, and into the Sheriff’s office, where Stiles’ dad was looking at a case file. He didn’t look up when the boys walked in. It was such a normal occurrence for Stiles to just show up at the station that his father never really bothered to ask him why he was there. 

“Heeeey dad,” Stiles said, going up behind him and giving him a big hug. “Interesting case?” he asked, pulling the case file from the Sheriff’s hands and pulling it behind his father to look at . 

“Give me that!” he demanded, turning around to face his son. As Stiles’ played keep away with the file, Scott flipped through some of the other ones on his desk to find one that would give them a reason to get into the evidence locker. He grabbed one and quickly left the office without the Sheriff noticing. Stiles let his dad grab the file back and gave him another hug. “Get. Out,” he ordered through his son’s smothering hug. Stiles gladly complied, leaving the office and meeting up with Scott, who handed him the file in the hall outside. They walked down to the evidence locker, and Stiles put on a cheeky grin.  

“Hey Sarge,” Stiles said, and handed the officer the file they stole, “the Sheriff wants to look at some evidence again.” The officer agreed, like he always did, and opened the gate to the evidence locker. He opened the file and looked for the corresponding row of shelves. Stiles followed right behind him, while Scott waited a little bit before slipping in to look for the drugs. 

“Here are the boxes, kid,” Sarge said, “he want all of it?” he asked, pulling one box out slightly from the shelf. 

“I think he just said he wanted the cell phone,” Stiles said, biding Scott some time. The Sarge grunted and rifled through the first box. Not able to find a phone after a few minutes, he pushed the box back onto the shelf, and pulled out the second one. After ten minutes of searching through all the boxes for a phone, Stiles’ own phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out to see Scott’s text message. 

_Done._

“You know what, he says never mind,” Stiles said gesturing to his cellphone. The Sarge rolled his eyes, and put the boxes back, then ushered Stiles out of the locker. Scott was waiting by the desk, his backpack now looking considerably fuller. “Thanks for your help anyway, Sarge,” Stiles smiled, and grabbed the file back from him. The boys quickly went back to the Sheriff’s office. 

“I thought I told you to leave,” the Sheriff groaned. His head was in his hands, and his eyes were focused on the same file that he was looking at earlier.  

“I was just wondering what you wanted for dinner,” Stiles said plainly, and carefully slipped the file back into the pile it was in before. The Sheriff didn’t notice. 

“I don’t care, kid, as long as it’s not vegetarian,” he smirked, still looking down at his file. 

“Vegan soy burgers it is!” Stiles cheered, making his father look up at him with a glare. “Kidding!” He laughed, and left his dad’s office, skipping. 

* * *

 

Stiles did up his bow tie carefully and looked in the mirror. He looked _really_ good, he thought. The other morning before English class Isaac had handed him a beautiful turquoise bow tie and a matching pocket square. He had bought himself a long, thin tie in the same colour, and wanted them to match. Derek glared at him when he saw the exchange from his desk, and had been cold to Isaac all week long. It’s a good thing Derek wasn’t going to be at Homecoming; Stiles was actually afraid he might try to attack Isaac if he saw them so much as dancing together. And he was sure that Derek wouldn’t be able to resist him in the outfit he was wearing tonight. Stiles didn’t own a tuxedo, and he didn’t want to rent one just to wear to a stupid school dance. So he decided to just wear the same suit that he had worn as a groomsmen to his cousins wedding that summer. It was a simple, black, double breasted jacket and a white, silk vest with a nice black shirt underneath. It was simple, but it was hella sexy. 

When Stiles got to Lydia’s house, everyone was there already. Isaac actually lived right down the street from Lydia, so he told Stiles to just meet him there, which worked for Stiles, because he really didn’t want to meet Isaac’s parents. After all, meeting the parents is kind of a huge step, and Stiles wasn’t even sure if he and Isaac were dating. Isaac was his date, but they weren’t dating. 

“Stiles!” Lydia beamed as she answered the door in a gorgeous green mini dress. She had a martini in her hand and nearly spilled it all over Stiles as she pulled him into a hug. She was clearly drunk already.

Stiles pulled back and looked into Lydia’s eyes, to find them totally dilated. “Scott handed out the party favours already?” he asked with a grin. 

“We’re all rolling!” she giggled, and dragged Stiles into the house, and into the living room, where his friends were all sitting around in a circle with drinks in their hands, and a bong in the middle. Allison was taking a hit from the bong, with Scott lighting it for her. Erica was on Boyd’s lap on the floor, and they were making out furiously. Ethan, Danny, and Jackson were all sitting on one couch and, Stiles could only assume, discussing their preferred hair products. 

Isaac jumped up from the other couch and greeted Stiles with a very long hug. “You look amazing,” he said, after pulling back to look at Stiles. 

“So do you,” Stiles smiled. And he was being honest. Isaac looked good. _Really_ good. He was wearing a black pin-stripe tuxedo, and the thin turquoise tie made his eyes look like the ocean. He looked into them for a while, then glanced over at Scott, who was now taking a hit from the bong. “Drug me, brotha!” he exclaimed, in a very good Josh Peck impression. Scott exhaled his smoke in perfect rings and then grinned up at Stiles and tossed him a small baggy full of little white pills marked with a little smiley face on them. He opened it up, took one out and dry swallowed it right there, gagging slightly from the taste of it. “Gahhh,” he said, clacking his tongue to try to get the taste off, and putting the little bag in the inside pocket of his jacket, next to his flask. 

“Come get a drink,” Isaac said, and took his hand, dragging him over to the kitchen and pulling out two cans of beer from the fridge. 

Stiles cracked it open and downed a couple of quick gulps. “Ahhhh,” he said with a smile, “much better.” 

“So, are you sleeping here tonight?” Isaac blurted out. Stiles looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “Lydia said we could all crash here cause her parents are out of town, so I thought if you were going to then I might also?” He explained, his voice rising slightly in a question. 

“Yeah that’s usually what ends up happening,” Stiles smiled. So Isaac definitely wanted to hook up tonight, then. Maybe. It could just be the molly talking. 

An hour later Stiles was feeling good. Really good. The drugs had kicked in and after a beer and a couple of Danny’s famous martinis, Stiles was ready to go _shake his groove thang_. It was almost time for them to head to school for the dance, but Lydia had a brilliant idea and insisted that they play a round of truth or dare before they left. So they were all sitting around in a circle on the carpet in Lydia’s living room, with a bottle in the middle. It was Jackson’s turn to ask now, having just done a dare that involved him taking a big gulp of water from the bong. He very nearly threw up, but managed to keep it down, somehow. He spun the beer bottle on the ground, which landed on Stiles. “Stiles,” Jackson grinned up at him. “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth,” Stiles said, without a second thought. No way was he going to do a dare that Jackson came up with. 

“Are you still a virgin?” Jackson asked, probably with the aim of embarrassing him in front of Isaac. Stiles’ stomach flipped. The last time he’d been asked that question in front of his friends had been a few weeks before school started, and then the answer had been yes. 

“No,” he answered, a blush creeping over his cheeks, and the majority of the group gasped, except for Isaac, who didn’t find it shocking, and Scott who already knew the answer to that question. People’s heads turned towards Isaac, making Stiles roll his eyes. “It wasn’t him,” he added. 

“Oh my god Stiles, you _have_ to tell us who it was,” Lydia begged. 

“That is out of the question,” he laughed. There was no way he was telling his friends he had slept with their English teacher. Scott knew, of course, but he wasn’t going to say anything. 

“Do _you_ know?” Lydia asked, turning to Scott, who shook his head and grinned like a child with something to hide. “You _do_ know! Spill it!” she cheered. 

“I will steal my father’s gun and kill you in your sleep,” Stiles said with laugh, and then shot Scott a look that said _I am so not joking._  

“I value my life too much,” Scott smirked, “sorry Lydia.” 

“Okay seriously? You’re no fun,” Lydia pouted at them both, as the grandfather clock on the wall struck nine, followed by the loud honking of a car horn from outside. Lydia got up to look out the window. “Oooh! The limo is here!” she beamed. 

They all got up and headed out to the limo. It was white, and long, and Stiles thought it was kind of stupid to take a limo when the school was only a ten minute drive. Then again they were all pretty fucked up, so maybe the limo was a good idea after all. Lydia made them all line up in front of it for the super cheesy homecoming picture, which she asked the driver to take for them. 

Fitting all ten of them in the limo was kind of a tight squeeze, but they managed to fit everyone in. Stiles was practically on top of Isaac though, right next to the door, not that he really seemed to mind. In fact, he was pretty sure Isaac was quite happy when Stiles felt a hand slide over his butt and rest there. 

“Hey Isaac,” Lydia said, smirking from across the car, clearly able to see where Isaac’s hand was, “I dare you to kiss Stiles.” 

Stiles was going to object, because hey, it was his turn in the game, and also, they had never actually kissed before. But before he got the chance to, Isaac’s lips were crashing onto his, and the whole limo was cheering. Stiles was apprehensive at first, but _fuck_ Isaac was a good kisser. Like a _really_ good kisser. Maybe it was just because he was intoxicated and everything felt incredible when you were rolling, but either way Stiles was totally into it. He kissed him back hard, letting their tongues slide together, and grabbing the back of his head. Isaac nibbled on his lip and Stiles let out a whimper that everyone heard, resulting in laughter all around them. Stiles didn’t care though, they just kept kissing. It was kind of strange, Stiles thought, to be kissing someone in front of his friends. But even if it was kind of weird, he was able to do that with Isaac; it was something he would never be able to do with Derek. Isaac’s mouth moved from his lips, to his jaw, down to his neck, where they stayed, sucking a dark hickey just above his shirt collar. 

“ _Fuuuck me,”_ Stiles moaned quietly, just loud enough that only Isaac could hear him. 

“Maybe later,” he whispered into Stiles ear, as they pulled up in front of the school. “But now, let’s party,” he grinned, and took Stiles’ hand, leading him out of the limo. 

 


	5. Happy Endings Are Stories That Haven't Ended Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac and Stiles grind all up on each other on the dance floor, Stiles makes out with Lydia, and Jackson is not happy about it. Finstock catches Stiles spiking his punch, and the night ends up a hell of a lot different than Stiles thought it would.

 

The dance committee had gone above and beyond this time. Of all the dances Stiles had been to at Beacon Hills High School, this one was by far the most elaborate. The entire hallway leading from the main entrance of the school up to the gym was covered in balloons, creating a long archway of maroon and white. Inside the gymnasium the ceiling and walls were draped with blood red, silk-like cloth, and white fairy lights hung all around them, twinkling like stars in the night sky. There were round tables covered in white linen tablecloths along the perimeter of the room, and on them sat beautiful red rose bouquet centre pieces in tall glass vases. Some students were sitting around the tables, trying to talk to their friends over the loud music, or else eating some sort of treat they had gotten from the long dessert buffet table against the back wall. There was a DJ table set up on the stage, and some simple strobe lights flashing in to the middle of the dance floor, where some students were already dancing to the music that blasted from the speakers. 

“This is my _jam_ ,” Stiles shouted over the music, as Shakira’s _Hips Don’t Lie_ started to play. Stiles dragged Isaac onto the dance floor and pulled him in close, grinding up on the boy, and putting his arms around his neck. The rest of their group seemed to follow suit, joining them in the centre of the dance floor, and dancing with their dates. They danced for quite a few songs, changing up partners, and dancing as a big group. Then when a slow song came on, Isaac grabbed Stiles and they danced close together, and kissed each other sweetly. As the song faded into _I Wanna Love You_ by Akon, Lydia and Allison shrieked and grabbed Stiles away from Isaac, sandwiching him in between the two of them. Last year at Homecoming, the three of them danced to this song at the very end of the night, when everyone else was just too exhausted to keep dancing. Since then it had just sort of become their _thing._ Every time this song would play it would just be the three of them, singing at the top of their lungs and grinding all over each other. He was facing Lydia, and had his hands on her hips, while Allison was behind him with her hands on his. Lydia was facing him, and this was really his ninth grade fantasy playing itself out. He turned to look over at Isaac, and saw Jackson standing next to him looking thoroughly annoyed. Jackson hated Stiles, because Stiles had a huge crush on Lydia when they were Freshmen, and as it turned out so did Jackson. So they hated each other. And even though Jackson got the girl, the hatred still lingered for some reason. Maybe he still saw him as a threat. Which was kind of funny, because Stiles wasn’t even into Lydia anymore. He wasn’t even into girls at all anymore. But Jackson hated him anyway, so Stiles liked to piss him off. He turned back to Lydia, put one hand on her cheek, and pulled her in, kissing her deeply, for a lot longer than he had intended, because she leaned into it. 

Isaac just stood there with Scott and Jackson and watched them. “Is it weird that I’m incredibly turned on by this?” he asked, turning to the two boys. Jackson grunted in response, and Scott just laughed. 

Stiles pulled back to look at Jackson, who looked like he was a dragon ready to burn Stiles to the ground. He could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears, that had turned a bright shade of red. 

As the song ended the DJ made an announcement over the loud speaker. “I’ve been asked to remind you to keep the dancing clean,” he said. Stiles looked up to the DJ table, and saw a familiar figure walking down the steps of the stage, having just spoken to the DJ. Derek. What the hell was he doing here? He said he wasn’t going to be chaperoning. Stiles groaned, and Isaac came up behind him, and put his arms around him. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered into his ear, making his heart race, “to be honest with you, if you kept dancing like that for much longer I wouldn’t have been able to resist ripping your clothes off.” He punctuated his words by biting Stiles’ neck gently, and Stiles relaxed a little bit. That’s probably why Derek had talked to the DJ in the first place. He didn’t want to see Stiles dancing like that. Especially not with Isaac. He turned around though, and kissed Isaac, wrapping his arms behind the boy’s head, and then leaning back to look into his eyes; his pupils were giant. 

“Alright, I need a drink,” he said as he realized his mouth was starting to get extremely dry. 

“Yeah, me too,” Isaac remarked, pecking Stiles on the lips once more and then taking him by the hand and walking over to the refreshment table. “Punch?” he asked, picking up a cup and the ladle. Stiles nodded, and Isaac poured them each a cup. Stiles looked around them quickly to make sure no one was looking, and then stealthily took out his flask and poured a bit of vodka into each of their cups. He slipped it back into his jacket pocket with ease. 

“Stilinski!” a booming voice yelled from behind them. Stiles whipped around to find Coach Finstock standing in front of them with his arms crossed over his shirt. “What do you think you’re doing?!” 

“Just getting some punch, Coach” he grinned, and then took a sip from his cup. 

“You put something in there,” Finstock said, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Coach, I would _never!”_ he gasped in mock horror, and then downed the rest of the punch before the coach could grab it from his hand. Isaac followed suit, chugging his down and then placing the cup back on the table. 

“Empty your pockets!” he demanded, scaring Stiles slightly, making him inhale sharply. People were starting to notice the commotion, and it was making him nervous. If the coach found his flask, he would also find the molly, and then they would probably call his father, and then Stiles would probably get arrested, and the Sheriff would probably kill him. He was freaking out. He exhaled slowly to calm himself, and then put his hands in his pants pockets, pulling out his wallet and then turning the empty pockets inside out. Coach Finstock growled. 

“Is there a problem over here?” a familiar voice called out. Stiles looked up to see Derek walking towards them. 

“Ah, Mr. Hale!” Finstock exclaimed, turning to face the man. “Stilinski spiked his punch, and is now hiding his alcohol,” Finstock said with an air of pride. 

 “Is that so?” Derek asked, looking at Stiles with raised eyebrows.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about, _Mr. Hale,”_ Stiles smirked. Derek’s eyes traveled down Stiles’ face, and paused at his neck. The hickey, Stiles thought, seeing the look on Derek’s face change from amusement to hurt. 

He looked back up at Stiles, and stared him right in the eyes. The look of hurt immediately changing to one of anger as he looked closely, seeing Stiles’ pupils completely dilated. “Outside,” he snapped, “Now!” Derek grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the gym entrance. Stiles looked back at Isaac who looked absolutely terrified. The coach had left him alone though, and Scott was running over to him now. He would be okay, Stiles thought. 

Derek pulled him out the doors and through the balloon archway, then turned down a hallway, unlocked his classroom door, and then pushed Stiles into the dark room, and walked him over to his desk. “What are you _on?_ ” He asked calmly, with a hint of a growl in his voice, leaning back and sitting slightly on his desk. 

“W-what?” Stiles stammered, his nerves getting the better of him. 

“Don’t bullshit me, I know high when I see it,” he snapped. Stiles ground his teeth together and started chewing on his bottom lip, looking down at the ground. He didn’t answer. Derek sighed, and then pulled him into his chest and hugged him close. Then before Stiles could react, Derek’s hand was inside his jacket, pulling out his flask and the little baggy of pills, and then pushing him away. “MDMA?” He asked, looking at Stiles with his eyebrow raised. Stiles nodded meekly. Derek let out an exasperated sigh and put the bag and flask inside his own pocket. “You know you’re not supposed to mix this shit with alcohol, right?” Derek asked. Stiles started to tear up. He felt like he was disappointing Derek, and that’s not what he wanted to do at all. He just wanted to have some fun tonight. He put his sleeve up to his eyes and wiped them quickly.   “Come here,” Derek sighed, and grabbed Stiles hand and pulled him back in close. He put his other hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, and ran his thumb over the hickey that Isaac had left there. 

“Are you mad?” Stiles asked with a sniff, his voice breaking slightly, and looking up at Derek. 

He shook his head. “Only at myself,” Derek responded with a sigh, and then kissed Stiles on the forehead. "This whole time, I was angry at myself for wanting you, and I took it out on you," he said, "I've been horrible to you, and I'll never be able to forgive myself for hurting you... and tonight... I just couldn’t stand seeing you with him,” he whispered, pulling Stiles head into his chest. Stiles relaxed into his touch. “I know I keep telling you that we can’t be together,” he said, and Stiles immediately tensed up again. “But,” he said, and Stiles pulled back to look up into Derek’s eyes, “I think we need to try.” His eyes crinkled around the corners and he was smiling, if only just a little bit. Stiles missed his smile. He hadn’t really seen it all that much lately. “Because,” he said, and then took a deep breath in, “I love you, Stiles,” he said as he exhaled quickly. “I shouldn’t love you, but I do,” he continued, “I think I have since the moment I saw you.” Stiles just looked up at him in awe. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. Derek loved him. Derek had always loved him. This whole time Derek loved him and he loved Derek and he should probably say something because he was just staring up at Derek and Oh My God Derek loved him. But before Stiles could arrange his thoughts together, Derek let go of him and said “but you don’t feel the same way.” His face fell. “Right, never mind then, just, just go back to Isaac and forget that I said anything,” he growled and stepped away from Stiles, turning his head away. 

Stiles just stood there spluttering, “Derek, no,” he said, once he finally was able to compose himself. He moved closer to the man and reached up to grab his face, turning it back towards him. “I love you too, you idiot,” he said, and then crashed his lips onto Derek’s, and wrapped his arms around him. “I love you so much it hurts,” he whispered in between kisses. They stayed there, kissing for what felt like hours to Stiles, but in reality was probably only a few minutes. “I want you to fuck me,” he said, slipping off his own jacket and then fumbling at the buttons on Derek’s. 

“Not like this,” Derek frowned, pushing Stiles off him slowly. “Not while you’re high,” he said. 

Stiles frowned and then lit up with a small grin when he had an idea. “Well you could be high too?” Stiles offered, putting his hand inside Derek’s jacket and pulling out the bag of pills that he had taken away. “It only takes half an hour to kick in,” he added, smiling up at Derek coyly. 

Derek took the bag from Stiles and looked at them apprehensively. He opened it up and took one out, holding it out in front of him and examining it carefully. “No,” he said frowning down at Stiles, who was all wide-eyed like an excited little puppy, before putting the pill back in the bag. Derek put the bag back into his pocket and then pulled Stiles back into him, and gave him a long, hard, kiss on the lips. “Come back to my place with me tonight,” he smiled, “and you’ll have come down by then,” he added. “Now go back inside and dance with your _date_ ,” he whispered with a grin, “and I’ll come find you later,” he said, giving him one last kiss and then pushing him off. 

“Speaking of my date,” Stiles said awkwardly, “what am I supposed to tell him?” he asked. “I’m supposed to go back to Lydia’s with him tonight,” he added, bending down to pick up his jacket off the floor. 

Derek went stiff. “You were going to sleep with him?” he asked, clearly upset by this news. 

“I was thinking about it, yeah,” Stiles said, honestly. Because he was. But he was only really going to do it cause he thought it would help him get over Derek. And because Isaac was hot and Stiles was horny, and it would have been fun. 

“Do you love him?” Derek asked, and before Stiles had the chance to object, continued, “Because if you do then you should -” But Stiles cut him off by grabbing his face and lunging at his lips. “Right,” Derek laughed, after pulling away and catching his breath, “Stupid question.” 

“Okay, okay,” Stiles said, pulling away from Derek again and walking towards the door. “I’m going to go back in and hang for a bit, and then in say, half an hour-ish?” he offered, and Derek nodded at him to continue, “I’ll say that I’m not feeling well, and that I’ve called a cab to take me home, but I’m going to insist that he stays and has fun.” 

“Alright,” Derek agreed, “and I’ll go tell Finstock that I didn’t find any alcohol in your possession, but I gave you a lecture on the dangers of underage drinking anyway,” he grinned, walking to the door and opening it. 

“Oh he’ll love that,” Stiles laughed, heading into the hallway and then turning to Derek as he locked up the room, “then in half an hour we’ll meet at your car?” he asked in a hushed voice, and Derek nodded. 

They walked in silence back down the hallway, through the long arch of balloons, and back into the gym. Stiles saw his friends sitting at a table, all of them looking rather worried. All of them except for Scott, who looked kind of annoyed, actually. He walked towards them and Derek went in the other direction, towards Coach Finstock. 

“Stiles!” Isaac beamed up at him as he got to their table. “What happened?!” he asked, his face full of concern, “we thought you got kicked out!” 

“Nah,” he grinned at him, and then looked over at Scott who looked up at him decidedly unamused, “I managed to, uh, get rid of everything before, um, Mr. Hale could search me,” he offered with a smile. Everyone seem to accept the explanation with huge smiles, but Scott wasn’t hearing any of it. “Scott, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked nodding his head away from the group, to signal that he meant _in private_. Scott glared at him, but got up and followed Stiles into the corner of the gym, far enough from anyone that they wouldn’t be overheard. 

“You’re lying,” he stated plainly. “What happened?” 

“Okay,” Stiles breathed, “now don’t get mad at me, but,” he said, and then began to explain everything. He told him about the kiss in Derek’s car at midnight after the first day of school, and then how he drove him home in the rain a week ago, and they hooked up again, and everything that Derek had said to him that Monday and then just now, and then ended the story with “and I’m going to go home with him tonight.” 

“Jesus, Stiles,” Scott sighed, “you know this is crazy, right? What about Isaac?” 

“I know,” he answered, “but it’s what I want,” he said, but then corrected himself, “it’s what I _need.”_ Scott nodded at him, and waited for the rest of the answer. “And I like Isaac, I really do, but it’s just not the same,” he sighed, “He’s just not Derek.” Scott shrugged, accepting his explanations without any further questions and they went back to their group of friends, most of whom have gotten up to dance again. 

When they got back to the table Isaac took Stiles’ hand and pulled him down to sit on his lap. Stiles sat there uncomfortably. What was he going to say to Isaac? Was he just supposed to tell him he didn’t want to go out with him anymore? Stiles didn’t know what to say, he had never broken up with a person before. Was he even going out with Isaac? He didn’t even know. He looked around for Derek. When he saw him their eyes met, and Derek did not look happy. Probably because Stiles was sitting on Isaac’s lap, and Isaac hand was now stroking his thigh and getting dangerously close to his junk, and Derek could see all of this from the other side of the room. Stiles got up quickly and sat on a different chair. 

“You know, I’m not really feeling all that great,” Stiles said, putting a hand over his stomach, and leaning over to put his head down on the table. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Isaac muttered, rolling his eyes, and Stiles looked up at him, completely confused. “I probably should have mentioned that I can read lips,” he explained, and stood up from his seat, but Stiles grabbed his hand, forcing him to stop. 

“I -” he started; he was going to say he was sorry, but stopped himself and sighed, “how much do you know?” he asked. 

“Everything you just told Scott,” he answered, letting go of Stiles’ hand, but not sitting back down. “I’m not going to say anything,” he shrugged, after seeing Stiles’ face, with an expression of pure panic plastered across it. 

“I - thank you,” Stiles said, relaxing slightly. “And I’m sorry,” he added. 

“It’s okay,” he answered, “you should be with the person you really love,” he said, “and I like you Stiles, I do, but I don’t want to be with someone who’s in love with someone else.” 

Stiles stood up and hugged Isaac tight. He knew there was really nothing more to be said. Stiles gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and with a smile he headed for the doors. 

He only had to wait by the Camero for a few minutes before he saw Derek exit the building and walk towards him quickly. He unlocked the doors with the remote keychain, and Stiles got in quickly and buckled his seat belt. Derek got in the car, and before he started it, leaned over and gave Stiles a sweet kiss on the lips. They drove to Derek’s place in silence. It was only about fifteen minutes away. Derek had one hand on the wheel, and the other reached over the center console, resting on Stiles thigh. When Derek slid open the giant door to his place, Stiles was in awe. It was this giant, wide open, industrial loft space. Nothing like Stiles had pictured at all. 

“Wow,” he said, kicking off his shoes and looking around, “this place is amazing.” He followed Derek into the kitchen area, and ran a hand along the stainless steel countertop, then took a seat on one of the barstools.  

“Thanks,” Derek smiled, opening the fridge and pulling out two bottles of water. He handed one to Stiles. “Drink it,” he said, and Stiles obliged, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. Only then did he realize just how dehydrated he really was. He chugged the whole bottle down, and looked up at Derek, who was standing there watching him. Derek unscrewed the next bottle and handed it to Stiles also, who chugged half of it, before putting it down on the table. “All of it,” Derek said, pushing the bottle back over to Stiles, who sighed, and then gulped down the last of the bottle. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Hm?” Stiles responded, “I feel great,” he said, standing up from the stool, intending to walk around the counter to Derek, but then wavering a little bit. He would have fallen over completely if Derek hadn’t jumped out to catch him. “Okay, maybe a little bit woozy,” he chuckled, and Derek picked him up in his arms, and carried him over to the big, king-sized bed that sat in the far corner of the loft. “Is it okay if we just lie here?” Stiles heard himself say as Derek set him down on the bed. It had been about four hours since he had taken the pill, and he was definitely beginning to come down now. He was definitely too tired to really do anything now. 

“Of course,” Derek said, helping Stiles take off his Jacket, then his vest, and his pants. When he got to the bow tie, he untied it, and then held it up in front of Stiles. “I’m throwing this out,” he grinned, and Stiles couldn’t help but laugh, remembering the face that he made when Isaac gave it to him in class. Stiles shrugged out of his shirt, and then Derek pulled the linens back, letting Stiles crawl in under the sheets. Derek took off his own clothes, and slid into the bed next to Stiles, wrapping him in his arms, and pulling him in close. 

“I could lie in your arms forever,” Stiles whispered into Derek’s neck, planting small kisses on him that made the man tremble slightly. 

“I’d like that,” Derek replied, kissing Stiles gently on the head, then closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. 


	6. Without The Bitter The Sweet Isn't As Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shower, sex and a painful memory.

Stiles woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon wafting through the loft. His jaw ached and his lips were raw from chewing on them all night. A loud noise sounded from the kitchen, Derek had dropped a frying pan in the sink, and Stiles let out a muffled cry into his pillow. His head was pounding. It felt like someone had hammers and was repeatedly smashing them against his temples. His stomach flipped with nausea. He managed to get up and bolt to the bathroom, making it there just in time to crouch down on the floor and retch into the toilet. 

Derek came up behind Stiles and stood in the doorway. “You okay?” he asked with a look of concern on his face; Stiles retched into the toilet again in response. Derek dropped down next to him, putting a hand on his back, stroking him gently. “That’s right, get it all out,” he whispered.

Stiles grimaced. “I am never drinking again,” he muttered, resting his head on the toilet seat, not able to look up at Derek, who started chuckling slightly. “No seriously, never again,” Stiles said with a laugh, and then grabbed his head in pain. “Owww,” he groaned, making Derek laugh even more. He kissed the top of Stiles’ head, then got up and opened up his medicine cabinet to get some Aspirin for the poor boy. He filled up a cup with some water, crouched down to set it down next to Stiles, and handed him the pill. 

“Come have some breakfast when you’re ready,” Derek smiled, kissing him on the head one more time, before getting up to head back to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, after Stiles was sure he wasn’t going to puke again, he flushed the toilet and popped the Aspirin in his mouth, swallowing it down with the glass of water, and then rinsing out his mouth with some mouthwash that he found in the cabinet. He left the bathroom to find that Derek had left out a pair of sweatpants on the bed for him, which he pulled on quickly, and was surprised to find that they fit him rather perfectly. They must have been an old pair, because they definitely wouldn’t fit Derek anymore. Stiles went over to the kitchen, where Derek was sitting at the counter, eating his last bite of eggs, and reading the Beacon Hills Inquirer. He turned around when Stiles approached, and he was wearing gorgeous, black, wayfarer-framed glasses. “Feeling better?” he questioned. 

“Mostly,” Stiles nodded, and then looked at Derek quizzically. “Since when do you wear glasses?” he asked, and Derek pulled them off quickly in embarrassment. “No, no, I like them!” he smiled, taking them from Derek’s hand, and putting them back on his face, “they’re kind of sexy,” he added, moving in close and leaning in for a kiss. Derek pulled away apprehensively, and Stiles laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m minty fresh.” At that Derek smirked, and pulled the boy in, kissing him gently. “You know,” Stiles whispered against Derek’s mouth in between kisses, “I’ve heard that a nice steamy shower is a great hangover cure.” 

“Oh, is that so?” Derek grinned, standing up, taking his plate and walking over to the sink on the other side of the counter. 

“Yep,” Stiles nodded, following him closely, and then hugging Derek from behind and planting kisses on his muscular shoulders as he turned the tap on and rinsed his plate. “So, I’m going to go take one,” he said, slowly grinding his hips onto Derek’s ass. 

Derek dropped his plate in the sink and spun around to face Stiles. “Is that an invitation?” Derek asked with a smirk, looking down at the bulge that was growing under Stiles’ sweatpants, then slowly dragging his eyes up the boy’s body, before looking into his eyes with a hint of amusement.  

“Absolutely,” Stiles grinned, and with a wink, headed to the bathroom and stripped down to nothing. Derek’s shower was really nice. Like _really really_ nice. It was one of those big, square, stone tiled showers with a bench and glass doors and a rain head so the water fell from the ceiling. Stiles got in, ready to turn the shower on… but couldn’t figure out how. He couldn’t find the faucet. There was no knob, or handle to turn, just an LCD screen that Stiles couldn’t quite figure out how to use. He pressed something on the screen, and music started blasting, _very loudly,_ from multiple speakers that seemed to be inside the walls of the shower. Surround sound. In a _shower._ “Derek! Help!” Stiles shouted with a laugh, as Derek walked into the bathroom, already naked. He opened the shower door with a laugh andpressed a few buttons on the screen, turning the music off, and the shower on - setting the temperature to a perfect 105 °F. “This… is _ridiculous_ ,” Stiles giggled, “Who needs this much technology in a shower?!” 

Derek laughed and pulled Stiles into him, wrapping his arms around the boy and crashing their lips together as they stepped under the rain shower head. Stiles kissed him back, putting his hands on the back of Derek’s neck, and running them through his wet hair. He parted his lips, letting Derek’s tongue slide in and dance around with his own. Stiles loved the feeling of Derek’s scratchy, more-than-stubble-less-than-beard, against his mouth, and didn’t care that his own lips were still raw and sore from the night before, because nothing felt better than having Derek’s lips against his. But then they were gone, as Derek’s mouth travelled down, to his jaw, then his neck, sucking over the hickey that Isaac had given Stiles, making it darker, and mumbling “ _mine_ ,” in between biting. He moved lower, to Stiles’ collarbone, then his chest, making Stiles moan with pleasure as he licked and bit at his nipples and ran his hands up and down the boy’s torso. Derek knelt on the floor of the shower in front of Stiles, kissing a trail down his body as he went. He teased him, kissing, nipping and licking his thighs, and squeezing his ass, resulting in murmurs of “ _fuuuuuck me,_ ” from Stiles, and a snarky “ _maybe later,”_ response from Derek. After what seemed like endless teasing, Derek put a hand on Stiles’ hard cock, working it slowly. And then his mouth was on it, licking and sucking. And Stiles leaned back against the shower wall, not able to stand on his own anymore, knees weak from the way Derek’s tongue licked the underside of his cock and tongued at his slit before taking him in his mouth. Stiles grabbed onto Derek’s hair, for lack of bedsheets to grip, as Derek deep-throated him, making him writhe against the wall. Then Stiles felt a finger rubbing at his hole, fingering his rim gently before pushing inside. And then there was another finger, and Derek was moving in and out, the same rhythm he was using with his mouth, and it all felt so fucking amazing and Stiles couldn’t contain himself any longer. 

“Derek _oh my god_ ,” Stiles shook, and Derek withdrew his fingers and leant back. The spurts of come that landed on Derek’s chest were rinsed away as he stood up and went under the falling water. “The things you can do with your tongue should be _illegal_ ,” Stiles breathed, pushing off of the wall and then leaning in to kiss Derek. 

Derek tensed up and frowned under Stiles’ lips. “Well, technically, that was,” he sighed, turning away. He grabbed a bottle of _Old Spice_ body wash from the shelf, squeezed a blob of it into his hand, and then rubbed it on his chest. 

“Fair point,” Stiles grinned, but seeing the expression on Derek’s face, stiffened and sighed. “Derek, we’re doing this, this is happening, so stop bringing up the legality of the situation and just be happy because that was the best blow job I have ever had, and I am totally in love with you, and I really just want this, _us,_ to work,” he sighed, then moved behind Derek, helping him soap himself up, rubbing his hands all over his muscular back. 

“Yeah,” Derek sighed, relaxing into Stiles’ touch. “Yeah, me too,” he said, turning around, and kissing Stiles softly. 

“Good,” Stiles whispered against his lips, “now,” Stiles said, looking down at Derek’s cock, hard and pressed up in between them, “what are we going to do about that?” Stiles rolled his hips against Derek, who let out a small whimper in response, and put his lips on Stiles neck, kissing and biting as Stiles rubbed up against him. “Fuck me,” Stiles whispered, turning around and grinding his ass against Derek. 

“I have to get a condom,” Derek said, pulling away, but Stiles stopped him, grabbing his hand and pulling him back towards him. 

“It’s not like I can get pregnant,” Stiles laughed, turning around in Derek’s arms, “just _take me,”_ he whispered the last words seductively. 

Derek stiffened. He reached an arm out, pressing a button on the LCD screen, turning the shower off, then picked Stiles up in his arms, pushed the shower door open, and carried him out of the bathroom. He threw him down on the bed and pressed his wet body against him. Stiles looked up at him in earnest. Derek reached over to his bedside table, and took out a bottle of lube and a condom. He ripped open the condom with his teeth, propping himself over Stiles with one hand, and rolled it down his shaft quickly and skillfully. He unscrewed the bottle of lube with one hand, squeezed some on his cock, and then pressed up against Stiles, lifting his legs up. “Never,” he said, “let _anyone_ fuck you without a condom.” He growled, and pushed into Stiles making the boy gasp. 

“You’re not just anyone, Derek,” Stiles breathed, and grabbed at the man’s ass, trying to pull him in even deeper. 

Derek sighed, pulling out slightly, then slamming back in making Stiles’ breath hitch. “I’m just teaching you to be safe,” Derek breathed, “I want you to be safe,” he said, staying still, inside of Stiles. “Some STI’s have no signs, people don’t always get tested or know if they have one, or they don’t care if they give it to someone else, so you always have to use protection, always,” he said with a sigh, “I’m clean, but if, in the future, you’re with someone else - ” he said, but Stiles cut him off.

“There’s not going to be anyone else,” Stiles said, looking in his eyes and bucking his hips up, wanting, no _needing,_ Derek to move inside him, “I _love_ you, Derek,” he breathed, lifting his head up to kiss Derek. 

Derek pulled out and then thrusted back into him. Stiles pulled Derek’s head down, kissing him hungrily. Derek kissed him back, but his movements then became gently and sweet. He pushed in and out slowly, and kissed Stiles softly, savouring every moment. Stiles ran his hands along Derek’s back, tickling him lightly, making the man shiver with pleasure. They were making love now, Stiles thought. They had fucked before, but this was different, this was special.Their bodies moved together like they were one; fit together so perfectly, like they were made to interlock, like it was their purpose to be there, just like that, in that moment. It wasn’t animalistic, like the times before, where all they wanted was to get off. This was sweet, and slow, and loving, and Stiles felt like he never wanted it to end. He wanted Derek to be inside him forever. Derek pulled back from a kiss, looking into Stiles’ eyes. 

“I love you too,” Derek whispered against his lips, slowly rocking his hips back and forth. They rocked together for a while, kissing slowly, their tongues intertwining, exploring every part of each other’s mouths. It was bliss. Then their lips separated, and Derek’s mouth was in the crook between Stile’s neck and shoulder, biting gently, and his movements became faster, and stronger. Stiles scratched down Derek’s back lightly, then grabbed his ass, pulling him in as close as he possibly could. And then Derek was slamming into him, and Stiles could feel him hitting his prostate with every thrust, making Stiles let out a loud moan. He could feel his orgasm building, closer and closer with every movement Derek made. He reached a hand down, and with one stroke of his cock he was coming, and so was Derek, in perfect unison. It was the best feeling in the world. 

Derek slipped out of Stiles and rolled over onto his back. He pulled the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it in the garbage bin next to the bed. 

“That was -” 

“Beautiful,” Derek said, interrupting Stiles. He was going to say _incredible,_ but beautiful worked too. It was beautiful. Derek pulled Stiles in close to him, and kissed him lovingly on the lips. 

“I think we need another shower,” Stiles laughed, looking down at both of their stomachs, which were covered in Stiles’ come. Derek looked and laughed as well, and then they both got up and headed back into the shower. Derek pressed some buttons on the screen, and Stiles still looked astounded. And then he realized something. A shower like this must cost a fortune. Hell a loft like this must cost a fortune. How the hell could Derek afford something like that on a teacher’s salary? So he asked him. “How exactly can you afford to live here?” he asked, “I mean, teachers don’t exactly make all that much money, do they?” 

Derek sighed, picking up the bottle of shampoo, and squeezing some into his hair. “I assumed you were going ask that at some point,” he frowned, massaging the foam into his scalp. “I have money,” he shrugged, hoping that Stiles would just accept that answer, but he didn’t of course. Stiles gave him a look, saying _keep going._ “My family had a lot of money,” he said with a sigh, “Our house burnt down when I was eighteen.” Stiles could tell he didn’t like to talk about this, but he needed to know. “Everyone died,” Derek frowned looking away from Stiles, “my parents, my uncle, my brothers,” he sighed, “my twin sister.” He rinsed his hair under the shower, then looked back down at Stiles. “Except me, and my younger sister, Cora,” he said, “So I inherited the family trust, plus a massive insurance settlement. That’s how I can afford to live here.” Stiles didn’t know what to say. All he could do was stare with his mouth agape.

After a few moments of awkward silence he spoke. “I- I’m sorry,” he said, and gave Derek a big hug. 

“It’s okay,” Derek shrugged, “It was a long time ago, I’m okay.” That wasn’t exactly true, Stiles could tell. Derek was only 24, so it couldn’t have been more than six years ago… not exactly that long. Stiles pulled back and looked up at Derek, then had a strange feeling of giddiness. 

“ _Wait_ , Derek,” he said, curiously, “if you have money, why are you teaching? Why not just quit?” If Derek wasn’t Stiles teacher anymore, there wouldn’t be any problem. Aside from Stiles being underage, which he wouldn’t be for that much longer anyway. He was turning eighteen in January. 

“I thought about it,” Derek answered, honestly. “When I saw you in class that first day, I thought about it,” he said, “and I’ve been thinking about it again.” Stiles waited for clarification. “But I love teaching. I really love it, and I’m good at it, and if I quit my job so I can be with you, my… _student_ ,” he struggled to say the last word, “I would never be able to teach again,” he finished. 

Stiles heart sank. He understood, he did, but it was still upsetting. There was a way that they could be together, _really_ be together without having to hide it, but Derek didn’t want that. 

Seeing the look of hurt on Stiles face, Derek continued, “Stiles you have to understand where I’m coming from,” he said.

“I totally get it,” Stiles answered, and gave Derek a kiss on the lips. Even though Derek would probably be in more trouble if someone were to find out when Derek was _actually_ Stiles’ teacher. Stiles realized that Derek couldn’t just quit his job and be like ‘oh hey i’m dating my former underage student now.’ No, that would not go down well. Definitely not. 

 


	7. Anywhere But Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finds out what Stiles' dad does for a living, just in time for Parent-Teacher night.

After Derek had dropped him off at Lydia’s house that saturday afternoon, he got into his Jeep and headed home, high on the afterglow of sex; a feeling which he would become more and more accustomed to over the next two weeks. Nearly every day after school Stiles would end up at Derek’s loft, and they would talk, and fuck, and talk, and fuck some more.

One Thursday afternoon, after a particularly exhausting round of sex, Derek jerked his body up, panicked, as if waking from a nightmare. Stiles groaned as he was pushed over by the movement, and tried to pull Derek back towards the bed. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Derek muttered, getting up and pulling on some boxer shorts, then heading over to the couch where his brief case was sitting. 

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked, sitting up, looking over at his boyfriend, who was now shuffling through piles of papers. 

“I have to mark all of these for tomorrow,” he sighed, running his hands through his hair and pulling out a red pen from his bag. 

“Why tomorrow?” Stiles asked, getting out of bed and pulling on his boxers. He walked behind the couch, and wrapped his arms around Derek, kissing his cheek and then looking down at the paper in his hands, some essay about _To Kill A Mockingbird,_ the book Derek was teaching in his Freshman English class. “Why not just mark them this weekend?” he asked. 

“Parent’s night tomorrow,” Derek said, and Stiles froze. He had completely forgotten. Stiles’ dad would definitely be at the parents night, he went every year. Stiles didn’t exactly have the best track record at school. He loved school, he loved learning, he just wasn’t necessarily the best student. He got really good marks in most of his classes, but he was kind of mischievous. He was a snarky, sarcastic little shit who liked to mess around in class, and annoy his teachers. That’s just who he was. So Stiles’ dad always went to parent-teacher interviews, and his teachers _always_ had something to say about him. Usually something along the lines of ‘ _Stiles is a really smart kid, but he lacks focus’_ or _‘Has Stiles been tested for ADHD?’‘Yes,’_ his dad would respond, ‘ _he already takes medication for it.’_ And as if Derek could tell what Stiles was thinking, he asked, “I’m going to meet your parents, aren’t I?” Derek went stiff. Stiles hopped over the couch and sat beside him, and saw the look of sheer terror on Derek’s face. 

“My dad, yeah,” Stiles answered, and then trying to change the subject, grabbed the pen from Derek’s hand and a paper from the pile in front of him. “Now that is just a train-wreck of a sentence,” he said, underlining a run-on sentence that made absolutely no sense, and writing a couple of question marks next to it. 

“Just your dad?” Derek asked, shaking slightly, ignoring Stiles’ attempt at changing the subject. 

Stiles nodded. “My mom died when I was eight,” he answered, feeling like he owed Derek some explanation. “She uh, she had this disease,” Stiles said, not really sure why he was telling Derek, but feeling compelled to. “Frontotemporal Dementia,” he continued, looking down at his hands. Even though it was so long ago, talking about his mother’s death was still hard for him. “It made her lose her memory, kind of like alzheimer’s, you know? She didn’t even know who I was at the end…” he said, trailing off. Stiles looked up at Derek then, and he was quiet. He had this look of understanding, but not knowing what to say. Derek opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, not saying anything. “It’s okay,” Stiles said, “long time ago, right?” 

“I’m sorry,” Derek replied, looking at him in the eyes, and then pulling him in towards him in and holding him against his chest. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said, not really knowing how else to respond. He kissed Derek on the cheek, then leaned away and looked back down at the paper in his hands, encountering a thesis statement that was so weak it was laughable. “Did this kid even read the book?” Stiles sighed, flipping through the pages of the paper, trying to find some semblance of connection to what the paper should actually be about. 

Derek glanced over at the name on the paper. “Probably not,” he frowned, taking the paper from Stiles, and going through it quickly. “Definitely not,” he corrected, and Stiles could see the look of disappointment on his face. “She’s always zoning out in class, I’m surprised she handed it in at all to be honest,” Derek sighed, and buried his face into his hands, letting the paper fall to his lap. 

“I zone out in your class all the time,” Stiles said, and Derek looked genuinely hurt. “I mean, you’re a great teacher, but really, most of the class is usually drooling over how hot you are,” he joked, nudging Derek playfully. 

“Maybe I should suggest she gets a tutor,” Derek frowned, not finding Stiles’ joke funny at all. 

“I could totally tutor her,” Stiles suggested happily, “I mean, I’m pretty good at English, and I could use something like that on my college applications,” he said, taking another paper from the pile in front of them. “Plus, it will be good practice if I want to be a teacher,” he added. 

“Then you can deal with students drooling over you, too,” Derek smirked, picking up the paper that he dropped off of the floor. “But yeah, I think that would be an excellent idea,” he smiled at Stiles. 

They sat there for a few hours, marking papers in their underwear, trying to stifle laughter whenever they came across a particularly stupid analysis. Taking breaks to make out every fifteen minutes or so, because they really just couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, but Derek insisted that he needed to finish marking.

As Stiles was finishing marking a paper that actually seemed well written for a change, his phone rang on the table in front of them. The word **Sheriff** flashed on the screen, along with a picture of Stiles and his dad, in uniform, looking severe. 

“Heeeey,” Stiles said, trying to pick the phone up before Derek could see the caller ID. Unsuccessfully, he realized, as Derek look at him strangely. 

_“Where are you, kid?”_ the Sheriff sounded worried. And the volume on the phone was definitely loud enough that Derek could hear exactly what he was saying. 

“I’m uh, just at a friends house. Chemistry project,” Stiles tried to sound nonchalant, “what’s up?” 

_“Is your watch broken, son, or did you purposely miss curfew?”_

Stiles gasped looking at his watch. It was 10:15, his curfew was 10 on a school night. How had it gotten that late? “Shit,” he said, “We lost track of time, I’ll leave now.” 

_“It’s fine,”_ The Sheriff sighed. _“How’s the project going? I mean if you need more time it’s fine, just finish up then get home.”_

“It’s good, we’re practically finished,” Stiles said smiling, “I’ll be home soon,” he added, then hung up the phone. He looked over at Derek who was staring straight at him, looking pale. “Don’t freak out, my dad said it’s cool, I’ll just leave in a bit,” Stiles shrugged, getting up and walking over to the bed to get his clothes. Derek’s eyes followed him as he got dressed and walked back over to the couch.

All Derek could say was, “Sheriff?” 

“Yeeeeeah,” Stiles replied, sitting on the arm of the couch, looking down at Derek, who was taking the news surprisingly better than he thought he would. He actually assumed the man would yell at him and tell him to get the hell out. “It’s not a big deal,” he said, and Derek looked terrified. “Have I told you how much I loved you yet today? Because it’s a lot. Like _a lot_ a lot! I really _really_ love you,” he said, leaning down to kiss Derek on the lips. 

Derek sighed and kissed him back lightly. “He’s going to kill me,” Derek grumbled, wrapping his arms around Stiles, burrowing his face into the boy’s chest. 

“No, no he won’t,” Stiles said, not entirely convincingly, as he was also trying to make himself believe it. “If he does find out,” he said, and Derek looked up at him horrified, “and that’s a big ‘if,’” he emphasized, “then we’ll figure it out,” Stiles shrugged. “I won’t let him do anything to you,” he whispered, kissing Derek on his forehead, then standing up and grabbing his back pack off of the floor. 

“Oh god and now I have to meet him tomorrow,” Derek groaned, “you better be coming to that meeting,” he added, voice muffled by the fact that his face was buried in his hands.

Stiles pulled Derek’s head up and kissed him deeply. “I’ll be there,” he said, as he pulled away, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walked to the door of Derek’s loft, slid it open, and left. 

* * *

 

 

“Tell me I’m going to hear good news at this parent-teacher thing tonight,” the Sheriff said the next morning, leaning against the door frame to Stiles bedroom and adjusting the cuffs on the sleeves of his uniform. 

“That depends on what you define as good news,” Stiles mumbled into his pillow, then rolled over and sat up in bed to face his dad.

“Well, I define it as getting straight A’s with no behavioural issues,” the Sheriff said, crossing his arms across his chest, and staring at Stiles with arched eyebrows. 

“Might want to reconsider that definition,” Stiles smirked, pushing off his covers and getting out of bed. The Sheriff rolled his eyes with a sigh and left Stiles’ room. Straight A’s, _almost,_ but no behavioural issues? Not even close. He was pretty sure Finstock was still convinced of his guilt re: spiking-the-punch-at-homecoming (which he was _totally_ guilty of, but Finstock had no proof), and Harris just hated him for no apparent reason. Maybe missing the instructions on how to properly set up the bunsen burner because he was talking to Scott, and then nearly scorching a hole through the ceiling of the classroom had something to do with it though. Morrell liked him well enough, but she might have something to say about the list of French curse words that he handed in instead of his homework last week. But that was totally an accident (it totally wasn’t an accident). He handed it in as a joke as he didn’t have time to do his French homework last week (he was too busy studying the curves and contours of Derek’s ass). Luckily Derek wouldn’t have anything bad to say about him, though he might be too nervous to say anything at all with the Sheriff there.

That morning in class Derek asked for a volunteer to help him with parents evening. It was basic stuff, really, just monitoring the door, talking about the class with the waiting parents, making sure the appointments are kept on schedule and Derek isn’t taking too long with the meetings. Stiles happily volunteered, along with a handful of eager, doe-eyed girls; Derek picked him, of course, having had him in mind when he asked for a volunteer in the first place. 

Parent’s night went better than Stiles had expected. When the final bell rang that afternoon, Stiles packed up his bag and quickly headed for Derek’s classroom. When all of Derek’s Freshman class had filed out, Stiles walked into the classroom, closing and locking the door behind him, then going over to the windows and closing all of the blinds. 

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Derek asked, looking over at the boy, and arching his eyebrows questioningly. 

“Well, parents night starts in…” Stiles said, then looked at the time on his watch and continued, “one hour.” He walked up to Derek’s chair and threw himself into the man’s lap, straddling him, wrapping his arms around his neck and whispering in his ear, “I can think of a few things we can do until then.” Stiles nibbled on Derek’s earlobe, and planted kisses along his jaw, making his teacher let out a quiet moan. He could feel Derek getting hard underneath him, and made a move to start unbuttoning his pants. 

“As fond as I am of that idea,” Derek said, stopping Stiles hands from moving any further by interlacing their fingers together, “this is hardly the best place for it.” He tried to push Stiles off of him, but the boy was having none of it. 

“The door is locked, the blinds are down, school is over, and I have been having dreams of blowing you under your desk for a month; this is definitely the best place for _that,”_ Stiles grinned, pulling his hand from Derek’s grip and unbuttoning and unzipping his pants quickly. He reached into Derek’s pants, pulled out his cock and started stroking him slowly. Derek grabbed Stiles’ face and pulled him in, kissing him hungrily, biting down on the boy’s lip to prevent himself from moaning. Derek’s cock was fully hard now, and Stiles could feel the precome dripping onto his hand, sticky and slick. Standing up, off of Derek’s lap, he detached himself from the man’s mouth, then quickly dropped to his knees under the desk. Derek let out a loud moan then immediately put his fist in his mouth as Stiles put his lips on the head of his cock. He looked up at Derek through his long eyelashes as he planted a row of kisses down the underside of his cock, then licked a stripe back up to the tip, before taking him whole in his mouth. Derek grunted against his fist and put his other hand on the back of Stiles’ head, guiding him gently. 

“St-hnggg,” Derek groaned, biting down hard on his hand, trying his hardest to stay quiet, but failing as Stiles licked and sucked at his cock. Stiles could sense that Derek was getting close when his began to tremble slightly, and took him in fully, trying not to gag as Derek’s cock hit the back of his throat. He inhaled through his nose sharply as he pulled away; the intoxicating smell of _Old Spice_ mixed with Derek’s naturally sweet scent hitting him as Derek reached his climax. Derek let out a loud moan of pleasure, no longer able to contain his noises, as he came in Stiles mouth. Stiles swallowed Derek’s load, hot and salty, as Derek shook in front of him. 

The doorknob rattled, then there was a quick knock on the door, and then a muffled “Derek?” 

Derek looked down at Stiles with an expression of horror on his face as his cock slid out of the boy’s mouth with a _pop._ “Just a second!” he managed to say, fumbling as quickly as he could to get his cock back in his pants and zip them back up. Stiles tried to stand up, but Derek pushed him back under the desk and glared at him with a look that said _just stay there and shut the fuck up._ So he did. He stayed under the desk, crouched up and not making a sound as Derek walked to the door and unlocked it, then opened the door a crack. “Jennifer! Hi!” Derek said, sounding far too enthusiastic, his face all pink and flustered. 

“I was just wondering if you wanted to grab some food…” Jennifer said in a suspecting tone. It was Ms. Blake, Stiles realized, recognizing her voice. 

“Oh, um,” Derek replied, not really sure of what to say. _Sorry, I’m too busy fucking my student right now, maybe another time._ Probably not a good idea. 

“But If you’re busy…?” 

“Yeah, I have like, a stack of papers I have to finish marking for parent’s night,” Derek lied, running hand through his hair. 

“Right, yeah, no worries, another time then,” Jennifer replied. 

“Sure,” Derek answered, and Stiles could hear the relief in his voice. He closed the door and locked it, then leaned back against it with a sigh. “Okay, so that was almost the end of my career,” Derek paled. 

Stiles crawled out from under the desk and stood up, grinning over at Derek. “A blow job that nearly ended your career,” Stiles giggled, trying to lighten the mood, “you and Bill Clinton have something in common.” 

_“Stiles,”_ Derek said, trying to sound serious, but Stiles could see the grin creeping across his face. “That can never happen again,” he frowned. Stiles grin was immediately wiped off of his face and replaced with a look of fear. Derek saw this look and laughed, “I mean at school, it can’t happen again _at school,_ ” he added, walking towards Stiles and pulling him into a hug. “It better happen again elsewhere, though,” Derek whispered into his ear and then kissed him on the cheek. “In the shower, in my bed, on the couch, in my car,” he grinned. 

“That’s a shame,” Stiles sighed, kissing Derek on the lips, then pulling away and walking around the desk, putting his hands on it and sticking his butt out, “because I have this fantasy of you fucking me across this desk,” he laughed, and Derek pushed him over playfully before pulling him into his arms and kissing him hungrily. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Derek mumbled into his kiss. They moved back to Derek’s chair and Stiles sat in his lap. They made out lazily, whispering sweet nothings to each other until they decided they should probably start talking about Parent’s night and what exactly Stiles’ duties would be. 

* * *

 

 

All of the parent-teacher meetings went swimmingly. Stiles greeted them at the door, let them into Derek’s classroom and waited outside the room for the next set of parents. Eventually Stiles’ dad arrived for the last meeting of the night, still in his Sheriff’s uniform. Stiles greeted him with a smile, but was freaking out on the inside. Derek was probably nervous enough as it was to meet Stiles’ dad, and he knew that he was the Sheriff, but seeing him in uniform might just freak him out a little bit too much. 

“Daddy-o!” Stiles grinned, seeing his dad walking down the hall. The Sheriff did not look happy. He had gone to meet all of Stiles other teachers without him, because he was helping out Derek. 

“Son, when were you planning on telling me about your boyfriend?” 

Stiles paled in horror. “I- what- how?” was all he could manage to say. 

“Finstock just told me about homecoming,” he said, crossing his arms and waiting for an explanation. Stiles said nothing. He wasn’t sure what exactly his father meant by that. A lot of things happened at homecoming. A lot of things that Stiles didn’t remember all that well due to the fact that he was extremely inebriated. “He said you were dating a boy named Isaac? That he thought you were drinking at homecoming but couldn’t prove it? Care to explain?” 

Stiles breathed out a sigh of relief. This was about Isaac, and the punch. Of course it was, Finstock could never let anything go. “Finstock likes to see things that aren’t happening,” Stiles said, confidently, “like me dating Isaac and spiking my punch,” he paused when his dad raised his eyebrow questioningly. “Both things that are not and did not happen,” he said. 

“So you don’t have a boyfriend then?” the Sheriff asked, just as Derek opened the door to let the Whittmore’s out of his classroom. Derek’s eyes snapped to Stiles, and then to his father.

“No, dad, I don’t have a boyfriend,” he said, looking down at the floor, feeling horrible for saying it right in front of Derek, but not exactly having any other choice. When he did look up at Derek, he was frowning. “Um, Mr. Hale,” he said, snapping back into reality when he realized that they had just been looking at each other strangely and his dad had noticed. “This is my dad, Sheriff Stilinski. Dad, this is my English teacher, Mr. Hale.” 

“Good to meet you, Sheriff,” Derek said, holding his hand out for the man to shake, and then inviting them into his classroom. “Stiles is a great student,” he said as they sat down. The Sheriff just looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “He uh, is a really great writer. His papers are always a pleasure to read. He really understands the material. He’s even going to be tutoring one of my freshman students, I don’t know if he’s told you that yet,” Derek rambled. 

The Sheriff looked from Derek to Stiles and then back at Derek. “You’re talking about Stiles? This kid, sitting right here?” he asked, not believing the words coming from the teacher’s mouth. 

“Um, yes?” Derek questioned, then looked at Stiles, slightly frightened. 

“See dad, not all teachers hate me,” he grinned. “Some teachers actually really love me. I’m pretty loveable, right Mr. Hale?” 

Derek gawked at that, and Stiles laughed at his expression. Derek ignored the question. “But while he _is_ very intelligent and his work does show it, he could try to pay more attention in class. I often find him daydreaming or else goofing off with his friend Scott.” Yep, Stiles deserved that one. 

“Now that sounds like Stiles,” the Sheriff grinned, and then his phone started to ring. He looked down at the called ID. “It’s the station, sorry,” he said, answering the phone and putting it to his ear. “Stilinski,” he said. Stiles could here a muffled voice on the other end of the line, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. “Yeah, I’ll be right there,” the Sheriff said, and then hung up his phone. “I’m very sorry, but I have to go. It was nice meeting you Mr. Hale, I hope he doesn’t cause you too much trouble,” he smirked. “Stiles, this is probably going to take all night so I’ll see you in the morning, alright?” 

“Yeah, see ya, dad,” Stiles sighed, watching his dad leave the room and the door close behind him. “Well that wasn’t so bad,” he smiled at Derek. 

“Yeah,” Derek said, letting out a breath of air that Stiles didn’t even realize he was holding in. “You loveable little shit,” he grinned, reaching out to hold Stiles’ hand. 

“You love me,” Stiles teased, giving his hand a squeeze. 

Derek grinned. “Shut up.” 

 


	8. Kids In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months have gone by, and Stiles' relationship with Derek is going amazingly well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update, I'm horrible with scheduling time to write and my life is a mess right now. But I promised someone a chapter tonight, and though it's already past 2 a.m. it's still technically tonight. So... here ya go. Enjoy. (I'm going to get the next chapter up this weekend I swear)

“Cora wants to meet you,” Derek told Stiles on the first day back at school after the winter break. They were sitting in his classroom during lunch, preparing for Derek’s freshmen English class. Stiles was going to be his Student Teacher. 

 “You told your sister about me?” Stiles asked, grinning up at his boyfriend. The past few months had gone by quicker than Stiles could ever believe, and his relationship with Derek was strong and better than ever. Derek had bought him a typewriter for Christmas, because ‘that’s how all the classics were written.’ In return Stiles got Derek a mint-condition, first edition copy of his favourite novel, which took him over a month to actually track down. He used almost all of the money he made tutoring to buy it, but it was worth it to see the look on Derek’s face when he tore open the packaging. It was a look of happy wonder and awe that Stiles would never get sick of seeing. On Christmas day Derek had gone to visit Cora at school for a couple weeks, and had just gotten back the previous evening. This was the first time they had been alone together since then. 

Derek nodded with a grin. “She thinks we’re insane, but she wants to meet you.” 

“Well, tell her to come up here to visit then, maybe during her reading week or something,” Stiles suggested. 

“I actually had a better idea,” Derek said, and then looked over Stiles’ shoulder to make sure no one was at the door. “I want to take you to Berkeley with me next weekend, for the whole weekend,” he said. 

Stiles barked out a laugh. “Yeah _sure_ ,” he said, the sarcasm clearly evident in his voice, “that’ll go down great with my father. _‘Hey dad, I’m just going to go to Berkeley to check out the campus with Mr. Hale, did I mention we've been dating?’”_  

“No, you’re going to San Francisco to support your buddy Scott in the lacrosse tournament,” Derek grinned. “I’ve got it all planned out.” 

Stiles looked at Derek with wide eyes. The Lacrosse tournament was next weekend. It was also the weekend Stiles would be turning 18, and Derek knew that. The Sheriff might actually let him go. This might actually work! “Okay, I’m in,” Stiles grinned, “so what’s the plan?” 

It was pretty simple really. Stiles was just going to tell his dad that he was going to watch the Lacrosse tournament, that Coach Finstock had said it was okay for him to tag along. And then when Stiles’ dad dropped him off at the school on the Thursday evening, he was going to just wait until the bus left, and leave with Derek instead. Simple. 

 

* * *

 

“Have fun this weekend kid,” the Sheriff said as he pulled into the school parking lot. “And while you’re there, you might want to go check out the Berkeley campus,” he grinned, pulling a big envelope out from behind his back and handing it to Stiles. Stiles looked up at his father, wide-eyed. A big envelope. From Berkeley. Stiles’ first choice school. He grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. 

“Dear Mr. Stilinski, it is my great pleasure to offer you early admission to the University of California, Berkeley!” Stiles read the beginning of the letter out loud. “I got in!” he smiled up at his dad. He couldn’t believe it. He got in to Berkeley.

“I am so proud of you, Stiles,” the Sheriff said, “and your mom would be so proud,” he added as he reached over to embrace Stiles in a hug. “So proud,” he said again. 

Stiles hugged his father close. All of a sudden a wave of guilt washed over him. He was going to lie to his dad now, right after this beautiful moment. He shook the thought out of his mind. “Okay I have to go now,” Stiles smiled, letting go of his dad and picking up his bag. “The bus is going to leave soon.” The Sheriff nodded, and let Stiles get out of the car. “Thanks, dad,” he smiled, and closed the car door, then waved as his father drove off. 

The lacrosse team was standing by the front doors of the school. Stiles spotted Scott and ran over to him. He wanted to tell Scott the good news right away. “I got in to Berkeley!” he grinned, waving the envelope at Scott. “I just found out!” 

“That’s amazing!” Scott cheered and pulled Stiles into a bear hug, “I knew you would get in,” he grinned. “I think Mr. Hale is waiting for you inside, by the way,” he added in a whisper. Stiles still found it strange that Scott wouldn’t call him Derek, but beamed up at him anyway and then ran into the school, and straight to Derek’s classroom. 

“I got in,” he said as he ran into the room, and straight into Derek’s arms. 

“What?” Derek asked, pushing Stiles back slightly to look him in the eye. 

“Berkeley,” Stiles smiled, “early admission. 

Derek’s face lit up and he pulled Stiles into a hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered in his ear, and then pulled away and looked behind Stiles, and around the room quickly. They were alone. He leaned in and kissed Stiles, pulling him in closer and running his fingers through the boy’s hair. Stiles wrapped his arms tighter around Derek, his hands creeping at the hem of his shirt, and slipping under to rest on the small of his back. 

A loud cough sounded from the doorway behind Stiles, and they broke apart so quickly and so forcefully that Stiles fell backwards into the desk and landed on the floor. He looked up to find Jackson smirking down at him, and pulled in a sharp breath. This was not going to be good. 

“It’s not - we’re not - oh, fuck,” Derek stammered, staring at Jackson with a horrified expression on his face. 

“Jackson I swear to god if you tell a single soul I will destroy you and everything you love,” Stiles said, standing up and walking back over to Derek. 

“I’m not an idiot Stilinski, you think I didn’t know about this?” Jackson laughed, pointing from Derek to Stiles, “Everyone knows about you two, you guys are completely obvious.” 

“W-what?” Derek asked. Stiles just paled at him. Completely obvious? They were so not completely obvious. No one knew about them, except Scott and Isaac. And probably Allison because Scott probably told her. And Allison probably told Lydia. And even if she didn’t, Lydia was smart and probably figured it out herself. So basically most of Stiles’ friends knew about them. But besides that they were totally not completely obvious. 

“Anyway, you know I did come here for a reason,” Jackson said, stepping forward into the classroom. “You told me to hand this in before the trip,” he said as he handed a paper to Derek, an overdue English assignment, probably. Derek took the paper without saying anything. He looked it over quickly and placed it on his desk. They all stood there in an awkward silence for a few seconds before Jackson finally said something. “Listen, I don’t like you Stilinski, you know that, I know that, but I’m not as big of an asshole as you think I am. I’m not going to say anything,” he said to Stiles, and then directed his attention to Derek. “Besides, Mr. Hale, you’re a cool teacher, and I need an A in this class, so I think we can work out some sort of agreement, don’t you?” Jackson smirked at Derek. 

Stiles gritted his teeth. “You’re not going to blackmail him,” he growled, at the same time as Derek spoke. 

“Yeah,” Derek said hopelessly, looking at the ground, then back up at Jackson. “Fine,” he said, “Just leave now, please.” Jackson smirked and swivelled on his heels before walking out the door in a strut. 

“You can’t let him blackmail you there has to be something else we can do,” Stiles said, reaching out to touch Derek. Derek flinched away. 

“It’s fine,” Derek shrugged, “I’ll give the kid an A, that’s not what I’m worried about,” he said with a frown. “But who else knows, Stiles?” 

Stiles hesitated. They never really talked about this before. I guess Derek just assumed that Stiles wouldn’t say anything to anyone. He shouldn’t have said anything, but it’s really too late now. He sighed. “Scott has known since the beginning,” he said, looking at Derek, who nodded in response, probably having assumed that anyway. “And Isaac has known since homecoming,” he said, and at that Derek flinched. 

“You told him?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow. 

Stiles shook his head. “He can read lips,” he said, and that seemed to be explanation enough for Derek. 

“Is that it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Stiles responded, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, I’m assuming Allison knows, because Scott probably would have told her, and Lydia is smart, so I’m sure she knows something is up, but they’ve never said anything to me so I really don’t know,” he said, “I’m sorry.” Stiles looked down at the ground as tears started to build in his eyes. Everything was going so well between them and now Jackson was going to ruin everything. He sniffled. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Derek said, looking around quickly and then pulling in Stiles close to him. “I love you,” he whispered, “we just have to be more careful.” They stood there in silence for a few moments, as Derek wiped the tears from Stiles eyes with his thumb. 

The sound of the bus engine starting up outside broke the silence, and they walked over the window to look out, pulling the blinds aside just in time to see the bus full of students turning out of the parking lot and driving down the road. 

“Ready to go?” Derek asked, turning to Stiles, taking his hand.  

Stiles nodded in response, and together they headed out the classroom door, down the hallway, and to Derek’s car. 

* * *

 

By the time they arrived in Berkeley, after two and a half hours in the car, the sun had set, but the night was still young. Stiles wanted to explore the city, and shake his tail feathers. He had heard that San Francisco had an exceptionally awesome gay scene. But Derek was tired after driving and just wanted to stay in.

“We’re going to go out tomorrow night, Stiles, and Saturday night, I promise,” Derek said as he flopped onto the king size bed in their hotel room. The woman at the front desk had looked at them quizzically when they checked in and asked for only one bed, and at first Stiles was almost afraid that she was going to ask to see his ID. But then he realized that she was probably wondering how a guy like Stiles, awkward, dorky, baby-faced Stiles, could land a guy like Derek. Tall, dark, handsome, Derek. It was weird for Stiles, being out in public with Derek, being together, everyone seeing them as a couple. But he realized people weren’t really seeing them as a couple. They didn’t know what to see them as. They certainly didn’t look like a couple. Thanks to his beard, Derek looked well over 24, and Stiles, though he would be 18 on Sunday, still looked no older than 16. They didn’t look like a couple. Not at all. 

Stiles pouted at him, then fell back onto the bed next to Derek with a sigh. “So what’s the plan for tonight, then? I mean it’s only…” Stiles said, then stuck his arm in front of his face to look at his watch and continued, “9:30. Movie? Room Service?” 

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Derek grinned and propped himself up on his elbow, resting his head in his hand and looking at Stiles. He reached his other hand out and put it on Stiles’ stomach, then reached a little farther, gripped his waist, and pulled him towards him. 

“Oh, well, I definitely like this idea,” Stiles smiled, turning his head to face Derek so that their noses were just barely touching. He brought his hand up to Derek’s face, running his hand through Derek’s scruff, then tracing a line from his neck down to the collar of his shirt with a finger. He tugged on the collar slightly and whispered, “this needs to come off.” 

Derek smirked and reached around, pulling his shirt over his head in a swift motion and throwing it on the floor behind him. “Your turn,” he whispered. Stiles eyed the man in front of him, drinking in every beautiful, tanned inch of muscle, and wondering how the hell he got so lucky. He pulled his own shirt over his head, and it definitely didn’t look as smooth and effortless as when Derek did it. He laughed as it got caught around his ears, and Derek had to help him pull it off. “You’re so cute,” Derek smiled, rubbing his nose against Stiles’ as he threw the shirt on the ground. 

“I don’t want to be _cute_ ,” Stiles pouted, “I want to be sexy.” 

“You’re cute _and_ sexy,” Derek smirked, “incredibly sexy, actually.” 

“No I’m not,” Stiles frowned, “I’m awkward, and clumsy, and—” Derek’s lips were on Stiles’ before he could finish his thought, rolling him onto his back and pressing his body against him. 

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” Derek whispered against his ear, sucking his earlobe into his mouth, and nibbling down on it, inciting a whimper from Stiles. “You don’t know how hard I have to control myself,” he said, planting kisses along Stiles’ jaw, and down his neck. “when you’re deep in thought and you lick your lips,” he breathed against Stiles’ other ear, “or when you drum your fingers on the table, or suck on the end of your pen.” Derek sucked on Stiles’ neck, leaving a bite mark. “It takes all my willpower not to bend you over my desk and take you right there.” His hands moved down to Stiles’ jeans, and slowly started to unbutton them. 

Stiles couldn’t help the blush that creeped over his cheeks and his ears, or the moan that escaped his mouth when Derek’s hand slipped into his pants and started stroking him. “ _Fuuuuuuuck_ me _,_ ” Stiles groaned, bucking his hips into Derek’s hand. 

“Oh I plan to,” Derek grinned, rolling over Stiles to stand up on the floor, then grabbing Stiles’ jeans and briefs and pulling them off of him with one quick tug. Derek pulled his own pants down and stepped out of them, then walked around the bed to his suitcase. Stiles propped himself up on his elbows to watch Derek as he riffled through his bag for supplies. The pause to search for lube and a condom was one that Stiles hated, but it was a necessary evil. Usually it doesn’t take very long to find the supplies, because they’re usually just in the bedside table, but Derek had apparently packed them at the very bottom of his suitcase, and was having trouble finding them. 

“I’m gonna have to start without you if you don’t hurry up,” Stiles said, then slicked his fingers up with spit and reached his hand down. 

“Don’t you dare!” Derek laughed as he carefully searched his suitcase, trying not to ruin any of his perfect folds. 

“Too late,” Stiles grinned, inserting one finger inside himself, gasping in pleasure as he did so, and then adding a second finger a few moments later. 

Derek stood up at the foot of the bed after finding the supplies, and just stared at Stiles. “On second thought…” Derek murmured, watching as Stiles rocked onto his own fingers.

Stiles looked up at Derek, whose mouth was hanging open, just staring at Stiles’ ass as he fucked himself with his fingers. He licked his lips as he slid the condom down his shaft. “You know, you could use that tongue for something else…” Stiles grinned, and in an instant Derek was on him, shoving Stiles’ hand away and replacing the fingers with his tongue. Stiles moaned as Derek lapped at his hole. “Oh _fuck,_ Derek, _fuck,_ just fuck me already!” he begged. 

Derek playfully bit Stiles’ butt cheek, letting a low growl escape from his throat, before climbing on top of Stiles and lining himself up. He dipped his head down and kissed Stiles’ lips, and then slowly entered him until he bottomed out.

“ _Move,_ ” Stiles whined, grabbing Derek’s ass and bucking up against him. 

“Oh you are very needy today, aren’t you?” Derek grinned, starting to rock into Stiles slowly, rhythmically. This was not fair, Derek was torturing Stiles. He needed more, faster, harder. He didn’t respond in words, just moaned as Derek’s pace started to pick up. And then Stiles could feel it, with every thrust against his prostate, the full-body tingle growing within him. He grabbed for his dick needing more, more, but Derek growled and smacked his hand away, and then pinned his arms down above his head. This possessive, rough side of Derek was really really fucking hot. 

“ _Derek,”_ he moaned, his whole body feeling like it was going to explode any second. 

“ _Stiles,”_ Derek breathed against his ear as he gave one, two, three more thrusts, and then stilled. Stiles was seeing stars as his orgasm erupted through his body, and come shot out of his dick and landed on his stomach. “That was -”

“Fucking _incredible_ ,” Stiles interrupted, then pulled Derek’s face into him and kissed him hard. Derek moaned in agreement against Stiles’ lips, then pulled away and pulled out. He got up and walked over to the bathroom, taking the condom off, tying it up and tossing it in the trash. He brought back a towel for Stiles to wipe himself off, and then slumped back on the bed next to him. 

“I love you,” Derek whispered, crawling under the covers and pulling Stiles in close to him. 

“I love you too,” Stiles answered. 

 


	9. You're Dead Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets Cora. Things don't go well.

The next morning Stiles woke up to the sound of Derek whispering into his phone, pacing back and forth in a towel, freshly showered, at the foot of the bed. 

“Well, he’s still sleeping, but I’ll call you when he wakes up and we can make a plan,” he whispered. 

 “I’m awake,” Stiles said with a yawn, sitting up against the headboard and looking at Derek. 

“Oh, good morning sleepy head,” Derek smiled at Stiles, then quickly added, “shut up Cora.” Stiles could hear her laughing on the other end of the line. “Cora wants to meet up for brunch, can you be ready to go in an hour?” Stiles nodded and rolled out of bed, heading for the bathroom. “Alright so we’ll see you then, Cor, bye,” Derek said, then hung up the phone. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up before?” Stiles whined as he stepped into the tub. This hotel shower was not nearly as nice as Derek’s. “We could have showered together. Saved water… and stuff,” he grinned. 

“Like there’s enough room in that shower for _stuff,”_ Derek said with a grin, poking his head around the corner of the bathroom door, watching Stiles as the water fell on him. The shower had a glass door, so he could see everything. 

“So you’re just going to watch me then?” Stiles laughed, “come on you’re not dressed yet just get in and help scrub me.” He gave Derek a wickedly suggestive look, and rubbed his hands down the front of his torso, then around to squeeze at his ass. 

“You’re going to kill me, you know that?” Derek laughed, but then conceded, pulling his towel off and stepping into the shower next to Stiles. 

* * *

As it turned out, there was just enough room in the shower for _stuff._ Stiles had nearly cracked his skull open on the shower head when Derek lifted him up to fuck him into the wall, and after a quick pause to check that he was okay, they shifted positions and went right back at it agian. But the prolonged shower meant that they were now running late to meet up with Cora, and on top of that, it seemed that they were lost. 

“I’m almost positive it’s on this street,” Derek said as they turned the corner onto Euclid Avenue. 

“You said that about the last three streets Derek, just call Cora and tell her that we got lost!” Stiles said, stopping at the end of the street as Derek walked on ahead of him. He groaned at the sight of the steep hill he was standing at the foot of. They had been walking around the north end of the Berkeley campus for half an hour looking for _Brewed Awakening_ , the café that Cora had told them to meet at, and there were _so many hills._

_“_ Because we’re not lost!” Derek huffed, not turning around to face Stiles, who rolled his eyes and trudged along after him.

“We _are_ lost, and if you could just admit it -” Stiles started but before he could finish his thought Derek turned to him with a smug grin and pointed up at the sign above them. _Brewed Awakening._ So maybe they weren’t lost now, but they definitely were before. 

 “Derek!” Cora called out as they entered the busy coffee shop. She was sitting at a table near the front of the café by the window, and waved them over. “You got lost, didn’t you?” Cora smirked, standing up and pulling Derek into a hug. 

“No,” Derek grunted, at the same time Stiles replied “yes.” Cora threw her head back in a laugh, and the resemblance to Derek was striking. They had the same eyes, and the same adorable bunny rabbit teeth. 

“So you’re Stiles,” Cora said with a smile, giving him a once over. “It’s so nice to finally meet the boy my brother is risking his life and career for.” Stiles paled. 

“Cora.” Derek growled, shooting her a glare. 

“What?” she smirked, “it’s true. But I haven’t yet decided whether or not it’s a bad thing,” she said, rolling her eyes and sitting back down in her chair. She pointed at the chairs opposite her for Derek and Stiles to do the same. 

Stiles sat down apprehensively next to Derek. He didn’t know how to respond to Cora. Yes, Stiles was a risk to Derek’s career, and his life, and he tells himself that all the time. He really didn’t need to be reminded of that. 

“You’re a risk I’m willing to take,” Derek said to him quietly, clearly seeing his distress. He took Stiles’ hand in his own and stroked it with his thumb. Stiles didn’t even realise how tense he was until he unclenched his hands and started to relax into Derek’s touch. 

“I know,” Stiles smiled, squeezing his hand. 

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest, Derek,” Cora grinned. “Now go wait in line for coffee while I get to know Stiles,” she said, waving a hand in the direction of the café bar to shoo Derek away. Derek glared at his sister, but got up and gave Stiles an apologetic look before making his way to the back of the long line. 

“So Stiles,” Cora began, giving him an appraising look, “what exactly is it that you like about my brother?” That was definitely not the question he was expecting. And he didn’t really know how to answer it either. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, at a loss for words. He glanced over at Derek, and then back at Cora, who was waiting for an answer. 

“What’s not to like?” he joked, not really knowing what to tell her. He didn’t just _like_ Derek, he _loved_ Derek, and it was a difficult thing to put into words. He could talk about how smart Derek was, or how they could talk about literature for hours on end, or the way that his heart jumps whenever Derek looks at him. But all of that was just superficial.  

“His super sunny disposition for one,” Cora said, her words oozing with sarcasm. She imitated Derek’s grumpy face and Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. 

“He makes me happy,” Stiles shrugged, turning around to smile at Derek, who smiled right back at him. 

“You make him happy too,” Cora said, looking at her brother, and then back to Stiles. “I honestly haven’t seen him like this since before the fire. You make him better, Stiles.” Stiles blushed, not sure how to take the compliment. “But I’m worried,” she frowned, and turned away from Stiles, looking out the window. “What you guys are doing is dangerous, and I don’t want to lose my brother. He’s all I have, and if something goes wrong, if people find out, he could be in serious trouble. He could go to jail.” She turned back to Stiles. 

“I know,” he answered, bowing his head down, looking at his hands as he fidgeted with them infront of him on the table. “I’ll be eighteen on Sunday though, so —”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, cutting him off. “He’s sleeping with a minor right now, that’s statutory rape, Stiles, and it doesn’t matter if you’re eighteen when someone finds out, because you weren’t when this all started. Not to mention the fact that’s he’s your teacher, in a position of authority over you, it’s just, it’s all very complicated, legally, you understand that, right?” 

“My dad is the Sheriff, I know all of this already, Cora,” Stiles said, trying to gulp down the tears that were forming in his eyes. He was getting overwhelmed and he could feel a panic attack coming on. He hadn’t had a panic attack in years, and now was not a good time for this to be happening. He took a deep breath. 

Cora’s eyes widened. “The _Sheriff?_ _Jesus Christ,_ does _he_ know that?” Stiles nodded, inhaling deeply, trying to control his breathing. “Are you okay, Stiles?” Cora asked, noticing the pained expression on his face. 

Stiles got up from his chair abruptly, then ran to the door, pushing it open and running outside. He ran down the sidewalk past a couple of stores, then slipped into an alleyway and slumped down on the ground against a wall. He let the tears flow freely down his face as he gasped for air. His heart was racing and it felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. He kept trying to breathe but he felt like he wasn’t actually taking in any oxygen at all. Cora’s words kept echoing in his head. _Dangerous, serious trouble, jail, doesn’t matter, that’s statutory rape._ His breathing was getting faster and faster, he was hyperventilating now, and his vision was starting to get blurry. He felt like he was going to pass out. 

“Stiles!?” Derek’s voice called out to him, “Oh my god Stiles!” Derek crouched down in front of him and put his hands to Stiles’ cheeks, trying to hold his head up and steady him. “Stiles, baby, what is happening, what’s wrong, oh - oh my god,” Derek was stammering, freaking out as he hovered over Stiles. 

“Derek I think he’s having a panic attack,” Cora said calmly, standing behind her brother, and looking at Stiles. “Breathe, Stiles, just breathe, it’s okay,” she said, crouching down next to them both, and putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, trying to steady him. “In and out, come on, slowly.”

Stiles listened, trying to calm his breathing. In and out. In and out. Slowly. _Just breathe, Stiles,_ he told himself. His breathing slowed. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the alley wall behind him. “I’m sorry,” he croaked out, the words getting caught in his throat. 

“No, Stiles, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out,” Cora frowned, rubbing circles on his shoulder. Derek was glaring at Cora now, with a look of pure hatred on his face. She looked at him and shrugged, “but if hearing the truth of all that makes you have a panic attack then maybe you guys shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“Cora!” Derek snapped, “what the hell?!” 

“No, Derek she’s right,” Stiles sighed, looking up into his eyes. “She’s completely right… This,” he said, gesturing between them, “it doesn’t make sense. And it’s clearly not good for either of us. I mean look at me.” 

“No,” Derek said, standing up, and reaching a hand down to help Stiles up. “No, you’re wrong,” he said as Stiles took his hand and stood up. Derek pulled him in close and held him tight, whispering into his ear, “you’re the only thing that makes sense to me, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I’m not letting you go.” 

“I’m just gonna go back inside…” Cora muttered awkwardly, turning back to the main street. 

“No. Stop, we’re talking about this, right now,” Derek said, turning towards Cora, still clutching Stiles into his chest. Cora stopped and turned back to him. “Tell me what you really think,” he growled. 

“Alright, listen, Derek you know I love you, and I’m happy if you’re happy, but I don’t want to see you getting hurt,” she said. Derek tried to open his mouth to speak, but Cora cut him off. “No, I know what you’re going to say, Derek. But you _are_ gonna end up hurt, you _both_ are gonna end up hurt,” she said, her voice rising with ever word. “His dad is the damn Sheriff, Derek! When he finds out!? What do you think is going to happen? That you guys are going to live happily ever after? Get married? No! You’ll be arrested! You’ll go to jail! And you’ll never be able to teach again!” She was shouting now, and Stiles burried his face into Derek’s neck, tears forming in his eyes again, because he knew she was right. He didn’t want her to be right, but he knew she was.

“We’re being careful,” Derek said quietly after a moment. 

Stiles pulled away from Derek, and wiped the tears out of his eyes. “We should tell him,” Stiles said. The idea came out of nowhere, but for some reason it made sense to him. “We should tell my dad.” Derek just gawked at him. “He’ll probably find out eventually, Derek, and it would be better if he hears it from us so we can explain, rather than finding out some other way,” he continued. 

“I… I don’t know, Stiles,” Derek frowned, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder, then letting his hand fall to link their hands together. 

“I think that’s a horrible idea,” Cora said. 

“I honestly don’t care what you think right now,” Derek said, looking at the ground in front of him, then turning to face Stiles. 

“I think he’ll understand,” Stiles explained, “I think we should tell him when we get home. On my birthday.” 

Derek shook his head. “I can’t do that,” he said, “I’m not ready to do that yet.” 

“It’s just a thought,” Stiles said, shrugging his shoulders. Derek pulled him back into a hug and kissed him on the forehead.

“Alright well this was nice,” Cora said awkwardly as she backed out of the alleyway, “I’m going to go home now.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Derek muttered. Cora left, and they stayed standing in the alleyway, just holding each other in silence. 

* * *

They eventually left the alley and walked back to their hotel, and despite everything that happened, Stiles still wanted to go out clubbing that night. He actually wanted to go even more now, if only just to dance the night away and forget about all of their problems. Just for one night he wanted to be in a place where he felt like he belonged. Where he could dance with Derek and no one would find it strange. Where they actually looked like they could be a couple. 

When they got to the club, the bouncer rolled his eyes at Stiles’ fake ID, but let them in anyway, for reasons Stiles did not understand but was grateful for regardless. 

“You think he let me in cause he thought I was hot?” he asked over the music when they got through the doors. 

“I slipped him a $50,” Derek smirked, giving Stiles a small kiss on the lips. Stiles laughed and kissed him back, then pulled him towards the bar. 

“Well then, you should buy me a drink Mr. Moneypants,” he grinned. “Get me drunk enough and I may even twerk for you,” he laughed, turning around and shaking his butt at Derek. 

“Well, that is something I have to see,” Derek laughed, smacking Stiles’ ass as he leaned against the bar. 

 “You know I’ve been called the Twerking Stilinski,” he said, making Derek throw his head back in laughter. 

“Can I get you anything?” the bartender asked, leaning over towards Stiles. 

“Yes, six tequila shots and two beers please!” Stiles said. 

“Jesus, you’re going to kill me,” Derek groaned, but paid the bartender and took the shots with Stiles, one after the other. They sipped the beers for a while and after a few more shots, Stiles felt he was sufficiently drunk enough. 

“Now dance with me, babe,” Stiles said, dragging Derek away from the bar, and onto the dance floor. They danced around to the beat of the music, grinding on each other and kissing in the middle of the crowd. Stiles wished that they could stay there forever, just dancing, without a care in the world. Because there, in the middle of the dance floor, pressed up against Derek, it didn’t matter how old either of them were, it didn’t matter that Derek was his teacher. All that mattered was the music, and the dancing, and the feeling of Derek pressed up against his back, holding him close. He was grinding up against Derek, who had his head burried in Stiles’ neck, kissing him, when he heard someone call his name over the music. 

“Stiles?!” 

He didn’t have to look far to find where the voice was coming from. Danny and Ethan were standing just a few feet away, dancing their way towards him.

“Oh fuck,” Derek muttered, burrying his head further into Stiles’ neck. 

“Danny! Ethan! Heeeeey!” Stiles’ shouted, his nerves at being found out making his voice sound far more excited than intended. “What are you guys doing here?” 

“I was gonna ask you the same question,” Danny smirked, eyeing Derek suspiciously, not able to see his face. “Whose the hunk?” he asked, his eyes skimming over Derek’s biceps that were wrapped around Stiles.

Stiles stiffened as Derek lifted his head up, smiling sheepishly at Danny. 

“ _No shit_ ,” Danny said, his face full of shock. Ethan stood there next to him with a smug grin on his face, and something told Stiles that he probably already knew. 

“Listen guys, could you not tell anyone?” Stiles asked, his voice straining to be heard over the music. “It’s really not what it looks like. I mean it is what it looks like but, it’s you know, also not,” he said. Attempting to explain to people their relationship was just way too complicated. 

“Does your dad know?” Danny asked, then flicked his eyes around the room, as if he were looking for someone. 

“Not yet,” Stiles answered, following Danny’s eyes. “Looking for someone?” 

“I just thought I saw one of his deputies in here a few minutes ago…” Danny said, still searching around the room. His eyes paused at the bar. “There,” he said, pointing his finger. Stiles followed his line of sight to the bar, and Danny was right. Deputy Parrish was sitting there, sipping a beer, looking around the room. Looking at them. Looking right at Stiles. Fuck. 

“And that is our cue to get the hell out of here right fucking now,” Stiles said, grabbing Derek’s hand and racing towards the exit. He turned his head to the bar, but Parrish was gone then. They ran out onto the sidewalk, fumbling and nearly falling over onto the street. “FUCK!” Stiles screamed into the sky.

“He probably didn’t even see us, don’t worry,” Derek said, pulling Stiles into a hug. 

“Oh yes he did,” came a voice from behind them. 

Stiles whipped his head around from where it was burried in Derek’s chest to see Parrish standing there with his arms crossed. 

“Parrish! Huh! What are you doing in San Francisco?” Stiles asked, laughing in attempt to hide his complete terror. Derek gripped him tight, which he was thankful for because he felt as if he were about to fall over.  

“I could ask you the same thing, Stiles,” he said, then eyes flitting to Derek and back, “does your father know you’re here?”

“Yes, yep! He totally knows I’m in San Francisco! Here to watch Scott in the Lacrosse tournament!” Stiles said.

“Mhm…” Parrish said, then looked up with a piercing glare at Derek, who was looking decidedly uncomfortable. “Well he is exactly your type Der, but a little too young for you, don’t you think? Not to mention completely jailbait and if I was in uniform and in my duristiction I would probably be obligated to arrest you right now.” 

“Kyle it’s not - it’s - we’re -” he tried to give some sort of explanation, but there was nothing he could really say. He sighed audibly and looked at the ground. 

“Wait… _Der,_ _Kyle?_ You two know each other?” Stiles asked, looking between them both increduously. 

“We went to College together,” Derek said quickly, at the same time Parrish said, “we used to date.” 

“Oh.” 

There was an awkward pause before Parrish asked, “So, have you been together for a while? I thought I saw you around Beacon Hills a few times, do you live there now?”

“Yeah for about 6 months or so,” Derek said, smiling, “in response to both of those questions.” Wow, had it been six months already? 

“Sheriff doesn’t know, does he?” Parrish asked with a frown. 

“No, and we would very much appreciate you not telling him,” Stiles said with a look of desperation in his eyes. 

“Well, I won’t, but you should,” Parrish responded, “that’s an awful long time to keep a secret boyfriend.” 

“It’s just complicated,” Stiles said with a shrug. Derek pulled him in closer and squeezed his side as he kissed him on the head gently. 

“You’re almost eighteen, I think you’re dad will be able to get over the age difference thing. The Sheriff’s a pretty understanding guy,”Parrish said. 

“I was his teacher,” Derek blurted out, and Stiles rounded on him, a look of horror plastered on his features. “He’d find out eventually Stiles, he might as well hear it from us.” 

“You’re joking, right?” Parrish laughed, “you’re not really that stupid, are you?” 

“Apparently that is the conclusion most people have come to.” 

“You’re not that guy, Derek. What are you doing?” Parrish sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, “and with the Sheriff’s kid? Do you have a death wish?” 

“We met before school even started,” Stiles said. It was almost as if he was trying to plea with Parrish. Because he knew that now that this information was on the table, there was no way he was going to be keeping it from Stiles’ father. He had to make him see, make him realize that it’s really not what it looks like. It’s not as bad as it seems. 

“We met at a bar near CSU and I thought he was a student _there_ ,” Derek added, “he was reading Descartes in Latin. I mean really, what high school kid reads Descartes? In _Latin?_ At a _bar?”_ Stiles laughed and shoved Derek playfully. 

“And once you found out he was your student?” Parrish asked, clearly unamused. 

“We tried staying away from each other,” Stiles shrugged.

“But that didn’t really work,” Derek finished his thought.  

Parrish was quiet for a moment, looking at them both with a look of contemplation on his face that Stiles really hoped was a good sign. But then his look turned into a frown and he let on an exasperated sigh. “I really wish you hadn’t told me all of this,” Parrish said. 

“Please Kyle, don’t say anything,” Derek pleaded, “we’re going to tell him, we’re just waiting for the right time.” 

Parrish nodded, weighing his options. “When’s that going to be?” he asked. 

“Soon,” Derek answered with a pained expression on his face.  

Stiles looked up at him in awe. “I thought you said you weren’t ready?” he asked, looking him directly in the eye.  

“I don’t think I ever will be,” Derek answered with a chuckle, looking right back at him. He put a hand on Stiles’ cheek and smiled at him fondly. “But you’re right, we need to do this,” he said, tracing the moles that dotted his face. 

“Wow you really love him, don’t you?” Parrish asked, looking at them, at the way they looked at each other. 

“Yes,” they both answered. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I am SO sorry that this has taken me so long to write. I've written like 10 different versions of this chapter cause I didn't know which way I wanted this story to go, but I have finally decided and I'd just like to apologize in advance for all of the angst and possible heart ache that I might put you through with future chapters. (Which will be coming much more frequently I PROMISE!) 
> 
> P.S. The Twerking Stilinski was in reference to my friend's tumblr url that I promised I would put in. Go follow him: [twerkingstilinski](http://twerkingstilinski.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: You may find a lot of similarities between the beginning of this story and the relationship between Aria and Ezra in the first few episodes of Pretty Little Liars. This is completely intentional, and was done because I loved the relationship that they had and wanted to write a variation of it with Sterek (because god I love Sterek) that would have a different outcome. So, similar beginnings, but the story will be very different, I guarantee you. 
> 
> Please please please feel free to comment and leave any criticisms you have! 
> 
> And feel free to follow me on tumblr at **[sterekdimples.tumblr.com](http://sterekdimples.tumblr.com/)**!


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